


Hands in Full Revolt

by fizzypunk



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Past Abuse, References to past trauma, Sexual Content, Trauma, bc konoha is built on corruption, eating problems, government reform, im so sorry for this, neji is hurting ahhh, recovering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 56,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25502584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzypunk/pseuds/fizzypunk
Summary: Neji doesn't understand why everything feels so wrong. He got what he wanted, right?Or, where Neji and Shikamaru live in the aftermath of not just the war, but the Hyuuga Family trial.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai | Might Guy (Background), Hyuuga Neji & Tenten, Hyuuga Neji/Nara Shikamaru
Comments: 20
Kudos: 70





	1. Part I  | Four Walls

**Author's Note:**

> this deals with Neji's clan trauma, panic, and eating issues as a result of anxiety (not an eating disorder, just a stress response).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neji looks for a first home, shikamaru eagerly wants to build it, but some things have not yet been laid to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “How many centuries deep is your wound?”
> 
> — Adonis, “Unintended Worship,” If Only the Sea Could Sleep

{wherein home is not a place} 

Neji didn’t expect his life to change substantially after the trials. Not in any big, noticeable way, at least – change began and ended with the breaking of the curse seal.

Change to the life he had now, as it was after the war, wasn’t in the plan in how the new chapter of life would go – the trials would happen, and then the ruling would come, and either way, the outcome would still be that he was a free man.

Free, and a part of the new world.

Besides the ruling, his expectations about the outcome were set – it wasn’t like anything fundamental about how he lived, day to day, would come into effect; and it wasn’t like there would be a reason to want anything to change. Nothing was broken, the seal was gone, and he was fine.

It was fine. He was free, the abstract thought setting his stomach on edge for months finally actualized, taking form. And, more surprisingly, it took form in a… positive way. It was an allusively positive feeling, contorted around the shape of the unknowable future that he never even tried to anticipate. Predicting that he would be free, that it would actually happen, was such an impossibility, he had constantly been on the brink of being resigned to it not happening at all.

That world of resignation, the one he had accepted before the war’s end, was now gone. Obliterated in war, and politics, and a new Hokage that might actually be suited for the job after all. The feeling left behind was unusual, biting and gnawing and somehow pleasant, but if asked about how he feels about it, he’d still settle and say  _ I feel well. _

_ Huh  _ . 

The fog lifted from his mind for just a moment, the veil of memories and thoughts parting, and he remembered the conversation he was having at the intrusion of softly spoken syllables. Shikamaru eyed him with a half-lazy half-probing gaze, and Neji realized he was repeating himself – though he doesn’t know how many times.

“Are you sure, Neji?”

Neji had no idea  _ why  _ Shikamaru was questioning him – this was  _ his  _ decision, and it was his word that Shikamaru should be trusting. It was almost enough to let that stir of distantly acquainted anger reach his voice, except it didn’t set well with Neji to be mad with Shikamaru at all — so he didn’t.

They were having a modest dinner in Shikamarus’ parents’ kitchen, low light with an autumn storm outside– and if he was thankful for anything, he was thankful that some things never change (even if the dinner discussion topic did).

Neji nodded instead, seeing the anger for what it was and set on ignoring it. He smiled with a press of his lips to Shikamaru’s cheek, leaning toward the closest edge of the table to do so. “I’m certain. I’ve been waiting for this… for a very long time.”

Shikamaru looked skeptical, even when chewing through a bite of curry and rice, but didn’t say anything.

That’s the great difficulty of Shikamaru – he was perfectly equipped to see through dishonesty, and even more adept at reading the context before acting. He looked down to his bowl of food and skewered some veggies in patient contemplation. “I have been too,” he started, casually placed intonations and purposeful calm that alluded to little more. “I even found one place that’s not too close to the fish market and not too far from the tower. It’s sorta small, but between you and me, I don’t see that being an issue. And, it has a small meditation garden…”

“You seem like you’re about to give me a reason against it despite that.”

Like the phrase,  _ and, but... _

It stirred that pot of uncertainty that walked the line of nausea and logic.

He knows Shikamaru’s mind and the weird way it works, but more importantly he knows his  _ heart  _ – Shikamaru loves him, has loved him for years... He’d seen the war through with him, they’d lost people together, and the strength between them never flickered...

Neji knows that nothing was alluding to a loss of that strength, and that logic alone should have had weight in the way he interprets the  _ lets not  _ of the conversation. Shikamaru’s reasons always make sense, are always painfully honest and logical, and they  _ don’t  _ root themselves in distrust, or lost feelings. They came from instinct, and that’s not something one often doubts when it comes Shikamaru.

The knot in Neji’s stomach tied tighter, like ropes against knives, but he’d never let Shikamaru know that. Shikamaru didn’t appear to notice, either, when he brought his eyes back up. “It’s not a reason  _ against  _ it, but I was thinking you might want… I don’t know, to be able to set your own pace.”

“I  _ have  _ .”

Shikamaru looked away, an insecure half frown on his face.“I want you take your time to decide what you want to do next. I… I don’t want you regretting this move, and I’d never want to force that just because  _ I  _ want it...”

Shikamaru had more to say – there wasn’t anything Shikamaru did to give it away, either, but Neji still knows there was more to it than something as small and as contrived as  _ regret. _

That knot didn’t loosen, but it was offset with the heavy thud of his heart, and Neji was okay with that. He smiled, setting down his spoon amongst an array of his half-untouched plates. He grabbed Shikamaru’s free hand, delicate and intense. “I regret nothing about you.”

Shikamaru smiled like his cheeks weren’t turning pink and flipped his palm over to squeezed back. “I  _ know,  _ ” he started, looking at their hands.  _ “  _ If you’re sure… just give yourself the chance to think about it.”

“I’ve thought about it, and I’ve  _ been  _ thinking about it during my leave.”

Shikamaru eyed him. “Then an extra day won't hurt.”

He wanted to argue about it – Shikamaru’s insistence wasn’t  _ founded.  _ It was ridiculous  _.  _ They already, for all intents and purposes, have been living together - even in the not long since passed days when his clan still had their chains around him, they shared a bed most nights, and found times together wherever their shinobi duties aligned in the perfect way. He makes him dinner most nights, so who was he to say he wasn’t ready to  _ live  _ together?

Neji did not make these arguments, and simply nodded in agreement.

~

If Hiashi were still alive, Neji thought he would have found it an ironic twist of fate that the New World didn’t have a place for Hyuuga. Not in the way they existed before, at least. The new world was coming fast, and with Naruto at the helm of it, Neji knew it was in good hands.

_ “You want… me to testify?” _

The trials went on under a new established court, appointed by Naruto and open to the public. This was not surprising that Naruto would make the request, yet it took him from behind all the same.

_ “Yes… Nothing about this is going to be secret anymore. No more closed doors, no more… secrecy...”  _

Neji’s testimony was crucial – though he supposed there was enough already known that would have finalized the Hyuuga fate, he said yes. He almost didn’t, but if there was any doubt as to the outcome, he had to.

It toppled not only the clan and all the systems that existed within it, but also delivered the reasons behind the court’s sentencing: it rendered the cursed seal  _ illegal  _ .

The trial was over fast, and he knew he should feel happy about the outcome – it was just as he thought, what he fought for, and he should feel  _ elation  _ .

The only thing living within him was guilt.

~

The sky was on the edge of rain, but nothing had yet happened to bring it past the point of taunting, brooding winds. Neji stood within the Nara lands, a field small and long and littered with a scattering of large rocks. Looking skyward for signs of turbulent weather, walking slow and hoping that in the rain, he might find the feeling in his gut would disappear.

Maybe, like sugar cubes, it would dissolve. Maybe, he wouldn’t feel so…

Sickly? Was that the word? He doesn’t know, but it was a sudden feeling, overwhelming the way rushing rapids are. The onset was fast, an ambush, and he had no idea on  _ why  _ it happened at all.

It was a mystery, how he was returning from the Hyuuga estate with poison in his belly. It was a mystery, but not really, not if he looked long enough to acknowledge the  _ why  _ . 

It wasn’t the Estate in its new form that caused whatever  _ this  _ unease was– once overwhelming and hostile, now rendered aimless and tossed up in the confusion of not knowing what to do after the trials. It wasn’t his problem, not yet any way –

He was  _ fine  _ at the gates – he walked in the gardens, trudged through the courtyards that lead to slender hallways, and felt the faint ghosts of his past life pass him like water over smooth stones. His shoulders still squared, his head still held high. He fell into familiar paths as he navigated the place that, once his only world, was now a stranger – the wash of feelings clouding his mind was nothing but muddled, but nothing more than that.

He was fine.

One step into his room proved him wrong.

The room was vastly empty, no traces of life from his life as a genin, before Shikamaru. It was decorated so sparsely, save for the picture of his father, a handful of books about the ninja arts and foods, a clock –

His bed was made to Hyuuga meticulousness, as desolate now as it had been then. 

_ Anyone could have lived here. _

Once upon a time, this had been a prison and the escape all contorted into one bed and four walls– the place he had been held, and the place that had been his to retreat to when the halls grew sharp with teeth and seals.

Here he had nursed the wounds of his curse seal, or of his flesh, quietly and as still as possible; the walls had eyes and ears that never rested. He’d laid in his too-small bed countless times feeling overshadowed by the window frame, the sky a blatant reminder of the world at large, the way it looked so  _ easy  _ to be on the other side of it...

It hadn’t  _ been  _ his room in over a year, not really. He only returned to retrieve what little items he possessed and wanted to keep, if there were any worth keeping. And the sight of the unbecoming, tiny, dusty room was fodder to fires he didn’t know were stoked.

_ This is too fucking dramatic  _ ...

But then his stomach churned and rumbled again, against the clawing of his hands and the squeezing of his ribs – 

_ Oh –  _

He had no idea he was clutching himself – ache like fire and ice at the same time, like horribly rotten food despite the fact that he can’t remember the last time he ate…

He’d taken a single picture frame, and his feet took him away without any more thought beside  _ get out. _

But then he was hunched over in the waist-high reeds and grass —Shikamaru’s house just beyond the thin crest of trees — dry heaving puke when the acid had run still and empty. Tremors, little lightning bolts, tumbled through him.

He caught his breath after the air in his lungs stopped seeping out; caught around the taste of bile and  _ something  _ remorseful and far more bitter, though he couldn’t call it remorse if he had nothing to lament over. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and yet it remained, and he tried to swallow it down and it remained.

He looked down to his hands and the picture of his father they held, and still it remained.

And when he broke through the clearing, past the streams and quietly sleeping deer, and found Shikamaru waiting for him in the light of his porch light, the feeling still remained. 

Shikamaru had just been smoking, it clung to him like a hug even though the wisps in the sky were slowly dancing away – but right now he was smiling, and the stress that often lied in wait behind his features was nearly gone. His eyes were to the sky watching the bruised clouds, he had a cup of coffee in hand, and on the floor of the deck behind him there was a second cup.

Shikamaru watched his approach through the sparse woodland beside his house, even with his eyes tilted heavenward. His black sweater sunk into the surrounding night, just as his dark gray sweats did, even in the meager porch light.

But when Neji was close, feet scraping against the landscaped walking stones in the land of his yard, his smile was brighter than anything else under the night sky. 

Neji’s composure was nearly regained as his stomach finally settled into place, and that was an  _ okay  _ settlement he was willing to make – for the time being. The violent emptiness of his stomach and the raw of his throat had quieted as he brought himself in for a small kiss, hoping to taste Shikamaru and his cigarette and – 

But then he pulled back, acid still clinging to his lips.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow to him. “What, you’re too good for coffee breath?”

Nothing prepared him to feel so acutely ashamed at that moment, and he looked down. “I was sick.” 

That, apparently, was okay with Shikamaru. He bridged the gap between them anyway, his free hand lacing under his hair to gently hold his nape. He kissed him, eyes dark and soft before fluttering closed.

Shikamaru opened his eyes and glanced to the picture in Neji’s hands briefly as they separated. “That’s all you’re bringing?”

His stomach churned, but it was, by blessing, quiet this time. Neji smiled in a way he knew didn’t touch his eyes. “Yes… nothing else was worth bringing.”

Shikamaru hummed at that, leaning down to grab the mug from the patio behind them. He handed it to Neji, smiling softly before returning his eyes to the sky.

“My timing was good today – I made this ten minutes ago.”

“I don’t know how you did that,” He smiled, taking the drink.

“Didn’t you know I’m a genius? I know things, like when you’re coming home.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Neji smiled, dismissing with the wave of a hand. “You’re too quick to call yourself a genius.”

“Maybe it’s because I am.”

“If you  _ insist  _ .”

Shikamaru’s grin was warmer than the mug in his hands.

“Thank you for this,” Neji added, indicating his drink with a smile that felt a bit brighter. The sky was nice, though temperamental, and he noticed Shikamaru’s lack of sandals. It was his turn to raise and eyebrow. “Aren’t you going out to the fields?”

“Nah, it’s gonna rain soon. I don’t know about you, but getting rained on while trying to sky watch is not my idea of a good night.”

“It would be beautiful for a while, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that worth it?”

“Yes, but maybe it will be worthwhile some other night. Tonight,” and he grabbed his hand, left hand lacing fingers with Neji’s right for a quick squeeze,“I’ll watch from here,”

A soft tug as Shikamaru made to sit down on the edge of the deck, and Neji obliged, following his example.

The winds picked up between them and the walls of the porch, carelessly tossing leaves and the scent of flowers about.

“Naruto wants to visit.”

They’re shoulder to shoulder, warm spots up along their arms in growing contrast with the chilly breeze. Beside them, the picture of Hizashi sat in peaceful solitude.

“Now?”

Shikamaru chuckled. “Gods, no. I’ve spent all day with the guy, a second more and I might have retired. No, I mean for the house. He wants a housewarming party.”

“Ahh. He wants to welcome us to a new part of our lives, is that right?”

“Mostly. I think a part of him wants to see you, too… he’s been trying to check in since the trial, and –”

Neji groaned, wind rising and catching on his teeth. “The amount of attention this has gotten me is  _ not  _ what I wanted –”

“He’s your friend, Neji, and you know how he is. He’s not trying to be nosy, he’s just… well, he’s just worried. What else do you expect from Naruto? His heart’s too damn big, and a side effect of that is that he worries.”

“Worried? That’s an interesting take on my becoming free…”

“I don’t think it’s about your freedom, Neji…”

“What else would it be about?”

“I think it’s about  _ you  _ .”

“Yes, but all of  _ this  _ attention comes from  _ them _ , from the fact that the Hyuuga aren’t allowed to enslave other Hyuugas now.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason Naru–”

“I don’t care about the thought process, Shikamaru. It’s directly related to part of my clan serving prison time, and  _ that  _ is related to my current situation, and  _ that  _ is what others feel like ‘checking in’ on.” Each word spurred Neji on, and that resilient heat packed in the pit of his stomach rose like a match to kerosene. Immediate, hot, a blinding flash fire. “There’s already enough in Konoha to worry about and now that I’m away from the fucking trials, away from  _ them  _ , I don’t want –”

Shikamaru’s hand, wide and familiar and stable, came to rest on his lower thigh. “Hey,  _ hey  _ .”

_ No, no –  _

When did his heart start racing like this?

Shikamaru’s cup was already down and off to the side, and he’d reached out to steady the cup in Neji’s hand. He set it aside quickly, shifting on one knee to face Neji – a small movement accompanied by the sound of tactile clothes folding underhand. Everything in Neji, like the lit match to a house fire, felt like  _ flight  _ .

Like earthquakes on the coast, like salt water caught in the breeze – 

Where was he supposed to run? 

_ You’re not supposed to run, you idiot. _

His nerves were alight, and he didn’t realize till the hand on his thigh  _ made  _ him realize how he was  _ shaking  _ – that there were stains of coffee on the inner sides of his thighs. A tremor, starting in his throat and radiating out to his arms and stomach and thighs and fingers– 

“Neji,” it sounded disgustingly sweet, quiet to the point Neji was sure he was the only one who could hear it.

He refused to look at Shikamaru, if not for the burning heat in his cheeks, then the way he felt plastered in place; cemented into this one shape that could not be broke by anything but a force of will he did not have.

Shikamaru squeezed his thigh again, and his other hand was loosely touching his elbow like a question mark, not trying to move or persuade, just  _ sit  _ there in quiet curiosity. Shikamaru let him stare off into the landscaped rocks of his front yard, shaking like it was the wind that was cold and not him.

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Shikamaru said quietly, in his peripheral, but he can feel his breath on his ear. “Whether he throws a party, or does anything even remotely  _ Naruto,  _ it’s up to you. He asked me to ask you.”

_ Oh, that’s right… _

“Personally, I’d like to not make it a big deal… but you  _ know  _ Naruto. The guy goes above and beyond all the time and not a force in this world could stop him,” he added with a chuckle.

_ It’s whatever  _ you  _ want. _

“I…”

_ It’s whatever  _ I  _ want. _

Shikamaru didn’t expect anything, not with the way he waited with a practiced calm for the rest of Neji’s thoughts to form; that itself almost made the guilt worse, when the quiet was as patient as it was scalding.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice broke but Shikamaru didn’t say anything, he didn’t do anything except sit there, hands on him but not seizing him, not commandeering – 

Just resting there, attentive without intent except to simply  _ be  _ .

“I- I’m sorry,” like he’d been extinguished from that fire the Hyuuga estate set him on, voice shaken loose into tight breath, crisp debris...

“Don’t be,” Shikamaru whispered, voice low and raising hair along his arms. 

His breath shuddered.

“It’s okay.” He made it sound like it really  _ was  _ . 

The spell that held Neji immobile like stalked prey dissipated in the wake of Shikamaru’s voice. Clarity he had lost and then found came back slowly, and by then he reached out habitually to pull Shikamaru into his arms.

He wanted to say it again, but he didn’t know if he could stop. He suddenly didn’t know anything.

Evidently, he didn’t have to, and instead came the steady incantation of “I got you,” into his hair, with hands as strong as steel wrapped around him. 

The rain finally did come, settling into a gentle patter around them.

~

Shikamaru was not giving up any part of his clan plans, which he made clear at the start of looking for a new place to live. He was expected to be the Nara clan head in the coming years, and that was still part of his plans. And, in addition to that, he wasn’t giving up any of his responsibilities to the herds of his land, either – though he and Neji were moving into a house that was not on the Nara land, it was clear that eventually he had planned to return to the lands. Be it in a house of his own design and making, or back into his parents house if the day comes that it was left to him, a Nara household was imminent.

Neji suspected most of their current house search was related to him and their relationship, but Shikamaru always disagreed when he brought it up. “No, it’s not  _ just  _ you.” But he was smiling when he said this. “I do want this whole thing to be  _ ours  _ , but I want privacy too. I don’t want to put the building of  _ our  _ house at the expense of my clan if I’m not involved in our… politics. That’s my mom’s role right now, so while that is still true, I’d like to hop on this opportunity to make this choice before it’s gone.”

Now, four days later, they were looking at the third advertised spot of the day. The first two were small homes on the east side, and this one was a newer building with a modest apartment on the west side. Its slender column rose up two stories, and the units were strictly accessible from the street, with small patios that overlooked the street and its food vendors.

Most of Neji’s administrative leave – ‘vacation’, or whatever Naruto called it – revolved around this house, yet to be manifested.

“This one’s close to the Nara forest, as well,” Neji said, looking up the side of the building and enjoying the darkness the street and tall surrounding buildings created. The added fact that they were across town from the Hyuuga estates made something  _ nice  _ roll around in his stomach like marbles. It wasn’t a factor as far as he was concerned – so much so that he didn’t even tell Shikamaru when they started looking – but it was pleasant all the same. 

“If you wake up on time, you might even make it to tend to the deer before noon.”

Shikamaru grinned, looking up at the same slender column of the white wood of the building. “Don’t bet on it. This part of town is nice enough, though,” and he pointed down toward their left, past Neji, to the vendors, the tobacco shop, the small neighborhood garden. “The landlord was nice– nice enough to leave the key for us. We don’t have to deal with any one.”

The key was tucked away in a box on the front porch – it wasn’t large, but it had room for a chair and a few plants, and that, surprisingly, delighted Shikamaru.

The unease that Neji had been feeling for the past few weeks was slowly being siphoned off, though by what he didn’t know – perhaps he was adjusting, or maybe it was the feeling invoked by searching for a house itself. Though he wasn’t sure how looking for a  _ home  _ was supposed to feel, whether it was supposed to elicit any feelings at all, he was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t feel bad.

_ This is… pleasant. _

He couldn’t help but smile watching Shikamaru open the front door, or when he kicked off his shoes even when he didn’t have to. It was clear that Shikamaru was trying not to look overly excited, but he couldn’t stop the way his eyes widened at the first doorway down the hallway when it opened up into a small kitchen.

“I think I might even  _ start  _ cooking here, Neji.”

“Neji, look,” and he pointed to the window and the garden box hanging from it in the living room.

“Does this look like a good meditation room?”

“Neji, our bedroom –”

“The landlord said it was built after Pain, instead of rebuilt, so the walls and ceilings are re-inforced. The view is nice, I can see the sky and the forests from here, too – I wasn’t expecting that view...”

It was like taking a child shopping – seeing all the possibilities laid out before him, and suddenly Shikamaru was flooded with nothing but possibilities and glowing eyes. Every corner, every surface or quirk made it into his commentary, a long-shot from the conversations they’d had about the previous two houses. And Neji couldn’t blame him for it, either, because it was the same over-powering optimism that slowly crept into his own thoughts.

It was a good place – it wasn’t the practicality, it wasn’t the nice kitchen, and it certainly wasn’t the price. Though he liked the space, and could see the way they’d fill it very clearly in his mind, it was the reaction it inspired in Shikamaru that made it good.

The good of it came from the delight in Shikamaru’s eyes.

Shikamaru was upstairs, after they’d split up after looking at the house together for the first round. The bottom floor was small, but it still had a comfortable sized living room branched off from the kitchen, and the finishings were sparkling and clean and inviting.

The long window on the west wall was slender and only a foot tall, from the ceiling down, inviting the swirling honey light from the autumn sunset burying into the horizon. The light caught his eyes as they scanned the walls, imagining the possible ways they would fit a futon and shelf and a place for games. There would be open space, enough to keep away the creeping claustrophobia that reminded him of his last room. There would be more than just furniture whose only purpose was to be used, not enjoyed, filling it up; there would be more than single photos in dusty frames, more than incense and consuming gulfs of sprawling emptiness. 

_ Here, too, could be corrupted. _

Neji grit his teeth, forcing down a swallow.

_ All it takes is a Hyuuga. _

He looked down to his feet, away from the blinding sunset, because the teeth in his intestines like to gnash at the wrong moment. They always start off small, with nips and snags instead of tears, in warning. It was a deep, instinctual warning that, mercifully, was enough for him to prepare himself for the ensuing bites.

It was like butterflies, except at least the ones Shikamaru nurtured within him were affectionate. 

And if he weren’t living in his head, he would have heard Shikamaru coming down the stairs. And if the teeth in his stomach weren’t chewing his attention to shreds, it wouldn’t have startled him when Shikamaru dragged his fingers down his back, gently over his hair without so much as a snag on a finger.

“I can already tell, this place is gonna cause us problems,” he left his hand settled in the small of his back. “Ino and Chouji are gonna try to live through us vicariously. They’re jealous of anyone who doesn’t live in the family house, and I think that we, unfortunately, fit that bill to a tee.”

“That’s understandable,” Neji laughed. He looked up from his feet to the sky view, thankful that the gnawing wasn’t bleeding him out yet.

“Yeah, well be on the look out. They might try to come over, then never leave.”

“I had the same impression about Lee… Tenten knows boundaries.”

“Always knew I liked her.”

“Me too.”

“Before you’re back on active duty next week, we should invite her over.”

“I agree.”

Shikamaru waited an off beat before asking the question he was clearly building up to.

“Do you like this one?”

Neji smiled, though, and he meant it when he nodded. “I do.”

Shikamaru gazed into his eyes, a slit of golden light grazing his handsome features from the nose up. He was still aglow from the tour, but anyone could see the settlement he reached in his eyes when he noticed Neji was  _ off  _ .

Neji was off kilter, just a bit.

“What do you think?”

He doesn’t want to say  _ I don’t know  _ , so he nods because it’s the closest truth he can grasp on to right now. “It’s… comfortable here. It’s pleasant.”

It’s not that he doesn’t mean it, he  _ does  _ like it here, but there’s a brick wall in his mind when he asks himself if it’s okay to say it. If on the other side of that is yes, not even his byakugan could tell. 

But then, living with Shikamaru…

_ Living. _

He pulled Shikamaru into his orbit, and the kiss they shared was enough to dislodge one brick from that wall.

~

Neji lives in a post-war world, and it’s as disorienting and ever-changing as the world during war was. The positive side of the unknowable shifts in the tides was that, for the most part, there weren’t any huge tragedies to be had. It’s hard to retire the resignation to accepting casualties, but it was a welcomed discomfort. Though he still anticipated  _ something  _ going wrong, it felt good to see that anticipation fizzle out into nothing but baseless fears.

That was probably the culprit behind the dread he felt when helping move Shikamaru’s things into their apartment. It was a strange, engulfing feeling, only for it to be replaced with dissipated remnants the moment they brought his bed up to the bedroom.

Baseless fears, then simple resolve. It wasn’t an easy pattern, but he fell into it nevertheless like countless others in Konoha.

At least, he assumed others experienced this. The only one he really asked about it was Shikamaru, who agreed.

Once everything was moved, they got take out to eat on the living room floor – all of Shikamaru’s items were strewn about them with carelessness. It was familiar in the right way, and Neji liked that. He’d have years to add to their home, and being surrounded by things so distinctly  _ Shikamaru  _ was not a bad idea for the time being.

Shikamaru stopped them half-way through their meal, the curve of his bottom lip settling perfectly against Neji’s jaw. “Hey.”

His lust was tangible, like he could  _ breathe  _ it in.

“ _ Hey  _ ,” he said back.

“We can break this place in, now, you know.”

Neji could so easily be surrounded by  _ this  _ , and he grinned into Shikamaru’s neck with the satisfaction of knowing what was coming next.

His food sat mostly uneaten, though Shikamaru didn’t seem to notice it this time.

~

He was aching, and that was the first thought to his muddled mind when he woke up – a burst of lightning, threads of delicate electric hands, birthed at a pinpoint behind his brow and spreading like shattered glass against his forehead.

He sprung from the comfort of pillows and blankets, adrenaline rushing through his system – 

“ _ Byakugan  _ !”

The first thing he thought, after the few blind seconds before he realized he made a mistake, was that  _ it hurt  _ . Not just the pinpoint pain, but  _ everything  _ . 

What he had been adamantly ignoring for the months until now (or, years, if he were brave enough to be honest); what he’d been making up reasons and excuses for, finally drew blood. Excuses meant nothing when the reality found a way to pull those blatantly wrong reasonings into the light.

It fucking hurt.

_ Why? Why now? _

His gut still felt like it was falling, and he couldn't remember  _ how  _ he got here. He couldn’t remember what set his heart off in a race, he couldn’t think of a single damn reason why...

He clutched at his eyes, letting them ease back into their blissful blind state, plunging back into the darkness of their room.

_ Why here? _

His feet shuffled in the comforters, kicking them away with too much force, too much energy being forced into one singular action. He twisted, and stumbled, ankle ensnared for a split second.

“Neji, Neji,” came from the darkness, right in front of him in the form of a shadow against the blackness. Shikamaru was fast to react, and stood to match him – and he too was standing on the pile of their sheets. “Neji, I’m going to put my hands on your arms, okay?”

Was it? 

“Neji?”

_ Shikamaru. _

He nodded in the purple darkness, feeling the shadow of Shikamaru approach, the shift of weight as a foot lifted in his direction. 

_ Shikamaru…  _

This was the harbor. This was safety in the cleansing of the fog in his head.

Shikamaru was in front of him – the blackness was not absolute, and Neji could pick out pieces of slightly  _ darker  _ shadows against the swirling, massless room. Shikamaru’s hands held out in front of him, waiting for the sign that would let him move. “I’m gonna need to hear you say it, Neji. Can I?”

His voice was touched with alert acuity, not an ounce of sleep to be heard. __

_ Shouldn’t he be tired?  _

Neji nodded again, his throat tight against the tension of his words. “Yes – yes.”

“Good boy,” Shikamaru whispered, soothing, like he always does. His fingers first touched his biceps, just the pads of his fingers without pressure. He dragged them down his bare arms, slowly lighting a trail of nerves. They lingered in the crook of his elbow, before slowly rounding the back of his elbow.

It was all inquiring touches like little fires, stealing away all of Neji’s attention, pouring it into the single points of those slender and comforting fingers on his skin.

_ Relax. Calm down.  _

Shikamaru’s hands clasped loosely around him, then drew lines back up the back of his arms until they settled on his shoulders, over the crumpled cotton of his night shirt. “There we go,” he whispered, exhale tinted with relief.

He took another step into Neji’s space, his body relaxed and poised without any trace of  _ action  _ , of threat. Neji could feel his breath on his cheek, at the edge of his mouth. 

“Are we doing okay?”

Neji’s heart was thunder. He knew he wasn’t  _ okay  _ . Shikamaru knew that he wasn’t – it’d been on quiet display for weeks – months– and this was the time, the opportunity, to answer that question in honesty. 

He’d ignored it if he was asked if he was well, and usually those asking weren’t the ones he’d want to divulge that disgusting intimacy to.

When Shikamaru would ask, it was in strategy, in kindnesses and long conversations, like  _ are you sure? Is this okay with you? Would you prefer if I make dinner? _

The questions made him blister, but this time they just made him weak. 

He shook his head.

“N…”

The word tasted so fucking gross, and he screwed his eyes shut.

“No,” caught on his tongue like a paper bomb. It detonated, and he tilted his head forward in sudden realization, sudden thunderstorms in him.

He’s not even angry anymore. He doesn’t even know where that anger  _ belonged  _ , but he missed it now more than ever. Anger was  _ familiar  _ , just as disgust was home to his skin – it was the foundations in which his roots lived, and thrived, and died. It was the place that despite every upheaval, every step forward toward new grounds, there was always  _ something  _ of it remaining – and that was the seed of all things comforting, be them painful or not.

There was no place for him in this helplessness, this newly planted  _ sorrow –  _

He was crying, his quiet inhales on the brink of breathlessness and hitching like a dying animal in the shadows of predator. Shikamaru rested one hand on his throat, fingers splayed out against the taut muscles of his neck, and his thumb cresting his jaw, close to his ear. His other hand came around to his chest, to his heart and that thin fabric between skin. 

Under hands that weren’t his, he could feel how much he was shaking – trembling like shrubs against a gale, unattended without even the comfort of strong roots.

Shikamaru kissed the side of his ear – it was painful how slowly he was acting, like he was when watching him at work in the woods with a frightened deer. And it’s painful knowing  _ he’s  _ the reason why Shikamaru was so composed, wide awake and tending to him with caution. Treating him like an angered animal, taunted with – 

“Come down here with me,” he whispered, a slight pressure to Neji’s shoulder, guiding him down. “Let’s sit down.”

Neji listened – his knees might have buckled if he hadn’t, and now he was sitting between Shikamaru’s legs, not quite in an embrace but in the position to pull Shikamaru in the rest of the way if he wanted.

And  _ oh  _ , did he want, and he did, and Shikamaru pulled him in, arms circling around his chest instinctively. He pulled him in, against his chest, resting his head on Neji’s back as he curled over his arm and knee.

His heart didn’t cease its panicked beating; it was still rapidly drumming like a tide on sand, tucked away in his ears.

He was shaking, and – 

_ Is this sweat? _

“I think I’m sick.”

Shikamaru shook his head, ear against his back – his arms, maybe on instinct, squeezing just a bit more. “I don’t think you’re sick.”

“Shika–”

His palm rubbed half-circles into Neji’s shoulder. “Neji, you’re not sick. This isn’t illness.”

“If I’m not– then I don’t know– ”

“It’s okay if you don’t know.”

“I feel… gods, I might throw up…”

“That’s okay.”

_ No it’s not.  _ “No, it’s not…!”

“Yes it is. It’ll be easy to clean.”

“We shouldn’t  _ have  _ to – this shouldn’t be  _ happening  _ !”

He squeezed him a bit tighter. “Neji,” he hummed, voice low and penetrating. “Do you want to talk about what’s happening?”

Did he?

“You don’t have to, but if you  _ want  _ to... I’ve been told that I’m patient,” he chuckled, and the rumble against his body was a welcome sensation. “I won’t say anything, not if you don’t want me to. You can just talk, and I can just listen.”

What would he say?  _ ‘Sorry, I don’t know why this is happening either.’ _

… maybe?

“I…” His voice was so dry, swallowing hurt – how was it this fucking hard? “I would… if I knew what to say. I don’t even know why I’m awake, Shikamaru.”

“Were you dreaming?”

Neji shook his head, shuddering into Shikamaru’s arms. He was certain there were no dreams in the moments before urgency took precedence. It was a  _ feeling  _ , just like every other pain was a  _ feeling  _ .

“I don’t remember.”

A stupid fucking  _ feeling  _ like – -

His eyes opened to the sudden prick of phantom pain on his forehead, how it had faded from his memory just to be resurrected yet again. Yes, he remembers, and it was choking, like gravel lodged in his throat.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to dissect it tonight.”

Even  _ here  _ , in the arms of  _ Shikamaru  _ ,  _ their  _ reach was absolute. Their curse, absolute.

“Why are you so fucking understanding?”

With even the mark removed, the memory of its sting remains like a bees’ stinger left in skin.

“Just because.”

_ They never wanted me to forget it, did they? _

“It’s pissing me off.”

“I’ve  _ also  _ been told I have that effect sometimes.”

He was torn. The guilt was so heavy he could have sunk if not for Shikamaru, and there was nothing he could do about it. His entire night was ruined, but not for its own sake – he brought Shikamaru into it, something that shouldn’t even be effecting him, too.

What did he expect? He knew it would happen eventually, he’d already been facing feelings like this during the day, it’s a wonder it took this long to enter his sleep. And, this time there was no warning, nothing his unconscious mind could do to deflect the nausea, the panic – 

No foreseeable warning signs would have allowed him to take the brunt of  _ this  _ in solitude.

“I…”

Even in Shikamaru’s arms, he felt the traces of hands and seals that had long since harmed him.

“It wasn’t a dream… maybe it was… a memory… maybe it was both.”

His eyes adjusted, and he could see through his hair, caught the sight of Shikamaru’s thigh and the shadows of bunched up shorts.

“I felt – lost,” and he took a deep breath, the first real one since waking up. Shikamaru’s breathing was steady against him, surrounding him so fully he could feel each unfaltering breath guide his lungs to calmness. “And then I felt it – my family seal – it hurt like it was  _ still  _ real. I woke up like it was branded on to me all over again...”

Shikamaru hummed, reverberating through his core in a sobering consolation. His body was warm, a welcomed sensation against the cold sweat now lining the crook of his neck, the small of his back – welcomed against the goosebumps now raising on his arms.

The space around them was warm and stale, and if he used his Byakugan again he knew the same walls and room that were there before, would still be there. With pictures of the Nara, the one of his father, a window with dark brown curtains, boxes. But in the nothingness, black with swirls of  _ what if  _ and mind tricks, the only certainty was the person beside him.

Neji laughed. This was likely going to be a recurring thing, now, wasn’t it?

“You don’t have to stay quiet, Shikamaru, I’ve said my piece...” Neji said after too many minutes had passed – he wasn’t tired anymore, the only thing he could properly identify within himself was restlessness. “I’m not going to… react.”

“I was never worried about that.”

“I’m sorry I caused this.” He sounded so feeble, so small.

“I love you, and  _ this  _ is okay,” and to make his point, he pulled his legs in just a bit further, enough where his ankles could cross. 

“I don’t enjoy  _ this  _ … the seal, whatever the fuck it is…”

“The seal was broken months ago…”

“Evidently, I still remember what it… feels like.”

Shikamaru kissed his back. “What do you want right now?”

He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the fates weren’t working that way. Again, he was at a loss for what to do and what to say, so again he fell apart, tears running hot onto Shikamaru’s knee. He shook his head against him, trusting it was enough to convey the muddle of thoughts within him.

Shikamaru rubbed his back, and they waited out the night in turbulent peace.

~

It was the birds outside the window that roused him, and the memories of last night that kept Neji awake.

He looked absolutely trashed when he went to see if his eyes were as puffy as they felt– and not in a  _ Gai celebration  _ after party sort of way. But the means to the same end always had the same effect. Both came with the same untamed hair pulled into a disastrous bun, eye bags under translucent skin, and blurry eyes.

He combed his hair well  _ enough  _ , and splashing off with water was the extent of his morning routine. Shikamaru was awake and downstairs and when he came down, there was a modest breakfast of rice and egg waiting for him.

Shikamaru had a binder opened in front of him on the kitchen table, sitting with a leg tossed over his knee and his back to the recently risen sun. He looked up to Neji, smiling. “I thought you would still be asleep.”

“I’d say the same for you.”

“Normally, you’d be right, but I have meetings with Naruto. He  _ really  _ wants to work on the reforms and for once I’m in the same boat. If only I had the same  _ energy  _ ,” he added with a groan.

Neji sat opposite of Shikamaru, looking down at his plate, trying to dig deep within to find some semblance of hunger, only to come up empty-handed. “He’s… done a lot during his short time as Hokage, I’m certain he doesn’t want to lose the momentum that he’s gained.”

“He sure as hell doesn’t. I can barely keep up. Now since he’s gone through the clans and did the legal equivalent of gutting them, he’s talking about the schools now.”

Neji hummed in acknowledgment, and left it at that despite all the ways he could have answered.  _ That  _ subject wasn’t something Neji felt like touching or even considering at the moment – and he knows, he  _ knows,  _ that it wasn’t the fault of anything besides himself that made him so unwilling. 

“Personally, I’ve always thought it was fucked up, the way we train kids to be ninja and the methods we use.”

Neji nodded.  _ This is not for now  _ .

He kept going. “I mean,  _ sure  _ , I admired the life and my dads role, but… man, it doesn’t sit right, does it? We went through a lot, as kids, without really having a say where we’d end up.”

“Shikamaru, I know what you’re doing, but now isn’t the time.”

Shikamaru looked up over his papers. “Then when is the time?”

There was a day they’d discuss politics and clans and how fucked their lives had been, but that wasn’t now. “I don’t have an answer for when, but i know that it’s not now.”

“Neji, I’m watching you hurdle yourself toward… well, honestly, I don’t know. But it’s clearly  _ affecting  _ you, and I don’t wan–” 

“Do you have to leave soon?” Neji offered, looking up from his chopsticks. 

_ Not today. _

Shikamaru sighed, setting down his papers into a semi-neat pile in front of him. His head tilted backwards slightly, eyes closed. 

He waited, hoping for him to take the gentle nudge that this wasn’t a topic for this morning.

_ Please. _

The sound of song-birds grew loud for a moment. Shikamaru leveled his head again, crossing his arms and huffing.

“Unfortunately,” he ceded after the moment of bird-song filled silence, giving his papers his attention once again. “I can’t tell what’s more troublesome, coming up with new policy, or reviewing old.”

“I’m sure it would be easier if you’d been able to sleep… it might have been less troublesome if it weren’t for me.”

Shikamaru snapped back up, eyes a little wider, more alert, than they normally were in the morning. “That’s not what I mean.”

“I know, I’m joking.” 

He smiled to proved it, though Shikamaru didn’t look like he trusted him.

“I don’t like your jokes sometimes,” Shikamaru hesitated before flashing a small smile, leaning over to pull everything marked with a hokage seal or name into his bag.

“I think this is the last time I attempt one.”

Shikamaru shook his head, fake disbelief in his chuckle. He had all he needed packed away into his messenger bag when he looked at the food still on Neji’s plate. “Not hungry?”

He sighed, wishing for the will to lie or a better answer, and shook his head. “No. But I recently saw an article in a magazine, something about losing weight for the summer,” he said flatly, picking a smile so decidedly non-genuine before, “I think I’m getting a head start.”

“I thought you said you’re not going to try to joke anymore?” 

“Who said I’m joking?”

“Neji, you’re so fucking annoying.”

It provided him a small distraction, but the heaviness returned immediately, and Neji sucked in some air through his nose.

Shikamaru had recently taken to looking at him like he was a little heart broken, a little awe filled – and a solemn sadness was added to the delicate concoction of adoration normally reserved for him now. It was the same sick sweetness that Neji could barely stand basking in, and wouldn’t have bothered with if it weren’t  _ Shikamaru  _ .

He stood and came over to Neji’s side, pushing stray hairs back behind his ear. He palmed each cheek, and Neji felt weak under their gentle guidance. He looked up, and Shikamaru leaned in for a soft kiss.

A lasting kiss, not one that made them dig into each other, not one that cradled hot, messy desire. Just lips, parted against each other, and the sound of soft breathing into each other's little space. 

“Eat something, or else I’m going to make dinner tonight and you’re going to have to stomach every inedible bite.”

Neji kissed him again, greed seeping into him. “I’ll eat, don’t worry.”

Shikamaru frowned. “You say that like you think I have a choice.”

“I know it’s not in your control. It’s not in mine, either, but I’ll eat, even with this… nausea.”

“Well,” and he leaned a hip on the corner of the wood, hands crossing in front of him with a furrow on his brow. “I guess there’s nothing I can do about that. That’s encouraging.”

He did not sound like he thought it was encouraging, and Neji didn’t comment. 

_ You don’t have to try to fix everything. _

“Are you still resuming duty this week?”

“Yes. I’ve been gone for too long as it is, and I… I can’t keep doing this...”

“What’s  _ this  _ ?”

“Contemplating. Having time to… dwell. It’s not healthy.”

_ That’s not the only unhealthy part. _

Shikamaru nodded, not looking particularly happy. He didn’t comment on it, but that didn’t mean the discussion was never coming. 

Just not now.

Shikamaru understood.

Shikamaru leaned over for a final kiss, deepening it so quickly that the absence of his lips left a dull ache. “ I’ll most likely be home later than normal, but I’ll bring back reinstatement paperwork.”

When he was gone, Neji ate his food with revolt and determination.

~

He didn’t know what he felt guilty of. It had grown on him, starting like a tiny speck in his vision. Written off by light, trick of the eye, or unfocused lenses, it was easily dismissed at first. But now, it was as a mountain, towering and unsurmountable, and he felt like the idiot that let it grow.

_ What the fuck do you have to feel guilty for?  _

Nothing.

_ What did you do? _

_ NOTHING. _

Maybe not here on earth, but in heaven or hell, there would be people to answer to. He’d just have to wait till then to hear the question.

~

The following week, Neji spent his days in deep meditation. 

Not once did he try to unravel the past or the monsters that live there. His focus was only for  _ now  _ .

For a while, it was enough.

~

In the dark, sometimes monsters slumber. This night, they slept heavy and undisturbed – but Neji was wide awake.

He just wanted to sleep – his body was tired and aching from just how much he wanted it, but it was just as guilty for keeping him awake as was his mind. He’d been a visitor in his own body most days, forced awake at odd moments and into sleep others.

He wanted rest – and he wanted, maybe even more than that, to not feel like his thoughts and feelings were becoming foreign to Shikamaru. He wanted to not have something to withhold.

It was constantly on his mind, and he knew it was there, knew it was like an unattended wound, but logic defied him some days and he knew he had been letting it bleed.

He’d been sitting on this wound for so long, even now he couldn’t deny it – but now, back in his body, emboldened by the sleepy shadows, maybe now he could let it be seen.

Maybe.

“Are you awake?” He whispered, the walls of their room seeming to devour the sound like a black hole to light. Neji knows he is awake. Neither of them had been asleep for a little while.

“Yes,” Shikamaru whispered back, voice falling into the same trap of hungry walls.

Neji drew in a shaky breath, feeling like the walls might also try to silence him; he wouldn’t be able to say it if he didn’t say it  _ now  _ . “I haven’t been well. Not for weeks...”

Their sleep naturally gave way to migration, Neji curled toward the wall with Shikamaru sprawling in the middle of the sheets. Shikamaru fixed their distance by shuffling closer to him. Satin and cotton sheets rustled beneath him, until cold hands laced under his arms and around the shapes of his chest. His body folded into his so comfortably, so expertly molded after years of bending to each others’ shape.

“I…” He’s shaking. “I’m angry again.”

_ Like I’m 12. Like there’s fire in me again. _

“When’s the last time you didn’t feel angry?”

“Before… before the trials. Before I...”

_ Before the truths and memories were written into documents, until the old graves were dug up in hopes of justice finally laying them to peaceful rest. _

Shikamaru’s breath flushed against his skin, kissing into his sensitive neck, drawing a shiver out of Neji. “When you’re angry... what do you do?”

“I throw up,” he breathed, feeling shattered. But the words were easier when they’re spoken into a pillow. “I can’t eat, yet I throw up.”

Shikamaru pressed another kiss into him, open and wet and louder, as if he were trying to embed him with the confidence and passion he has for him, except the only way he could  _ get  _ that close was in kisses. The skin was never close enough, never deep enough for him.

Neji clutched at Shikamaru’s arm around his torso, squeezing his thighs closed. 

“Keep telling me,” Shikamaru said against his skin, a low rumble that traveled up his vertebrae. “What do you do?”

“I… feel like I’m waiting for something to go wrong… I cry… I feel pain…”

“Where do you feel pain?”

And it was almost like a dream, the way words were forming before he even recognized their sound – things he didn’t even know were true until they left his mouth. “ _ Everywhere  _ . My memory, my eyes, my hands, my fucking  _ forehead  _ …!”

“When do you feel it?”

“ _ When…” _

Shikamaru’s kisses, wet and loud and with too much suction, were the drug that loosened his tongue, that turned his intentions to divulge into putty, his eyes to rivers.  _ “When I’m happy… nnn,”  _ and the moan that escaped him felt too big.

“What are you angry at?”

Neji shook his head.

“ _ Who  _ are you angry at?”

He swallowed around the tears, around the hot shame, because the answer is almost a joke. He shook his head again, stiff and jerky and painful.  _ “No... _

“ _ Neji  _ ,” he pressed against the hot skin of his neck. “Who are you angry at?”

Shikamaru must have known he found  _ it  _ . 

Whatever  _ it  _ is, whatever  _ it  _ means.

_ He’s too fucking  _ –

Shikamaru sat up on his unused elbow, his arm looped around Neji now tugging, pulling, urging his body to face him. His hand came up from his naval and rested against his chest, over his heart, feeling the urgency under his fingers as he leaned into his space. 

Neji pulled him into a searing kiss, one that Shikamaru didn’t expect, if the sound he made meant anything.

He broke away just long enough. “ _ You can’t kiss this away.” _

“Like  _ hell  _ I can’t,” he growled, streaks of salt water running down his lips.

“ _ Not  _ when we’re having this conversation!”

“Maybe I’m done talking”

“ _ You  _ started this! You told me you’re not well! Forgive me for wanting to hear what’s been fucking you up and —“

“I said—"

_ “Who are you angry at, Neji?” _

Neji closed his wet eyes against the question, shaking his head. “No…” He whispered into his mouth, hooking his arms under his arms and pulling him in by the shoulders.

The pit in his stomach dissolved, only comforted by the weight of Shikamaru’s body resting on him and hungry for more. It was a firewall, the need that gripped him so suddenly that he didn’t even have time to let his cheeks dry before he went to take action – still crying into the kisses he wanted so badly to make Shikamaru just  _ shut up  _ .

To turn this ache into an ache capable of being  _ fixed. _

Shikamaru pulled away, trying to unhook Neji’s arms but only succeeding in giving Neji the room he needed to flip him on his back. He hooked his ankle fast, bearing his weight on top of Shikamaru immediately, as if it was enough to buy the silence he desired.

He pressed a kiss into him, too much power, too harsh around the fraying edges. 

Shikamaru’s voice was muffled against his lips, his hand balled, pressed into his sternum and  _ pushing  _ – 

And he pushed back, drawn in with every ache, feeling  _ alive  _ in these moments, like he wasn’t on the brink of words he couldn’t ever take back. The feeling of his thighs splitting Shikamaru’s open, the way his skin was just as hot and just as flushed as it pressed back up against him, against his kiss –

A kiss that fucking hurt –

Shikamaru’s unsecured knee came up and  _ pushed  _ –

Not painfully, but forcefully against his abs, separating them at last.

“ _ Neji  _ ,” he said as his breath came in torrents, and he’d freed himself enough room that his pushing worked this time. He flipped them again, against the edge of the bed that he could feel them almost falling.

On the edge, but not quite enough to tumble.

Shikamaru was breathless, panting above him, kneeling on either side of his hips while he tried to catch his breath. “You can’t  _ fuck  _ me into being quiet.”

“I just wanted to  _ fuck  _ you,” he bit back.

“And you just thought you’d smother me while you’re at it?”

It was sobering, hearing what happened in just the way it happened. No minced words, no half-truths or sweetness added to make it go down easier. Just emboldened words, said with frustration and anger and confusion, from the person he loves more than anything.

Neji stared up into the negative space above him, acutely aware of the gulf that opened up between him and Shikamaru. He was aware, but nothing could breech that empty space, not with the daggers he felt showering down on him like angry eyes of confused viewership. There was no bridging that chasm without tools, without righting the wrong that had turned such tenderness sour.

He begged his hands to move, yet they remained at his sides, as useless to his own endeavors to help himself as they had always been. Trite, weak, awaiting hands that acted on the first thought, not the best thought, no matter how ill-conceived the first one was, or how much potential lived in the second, scarier one.

Shikamaru was about to say something, and it was something he deserved to hear – he could have said it himself, because he was scared it was true.

He’d never know what Shikamaru would have said. He left himself to the blessing of guesses and speculation, because he had the answer that he knew was the key to fixing this screw up.

“Myself.”

Shikamaru stopped, breath stalling for a second. “You?”

“The  _ who  _ in question. It’s me.”

Shikamaru deflated above him, becoming lighter, less bristling. His thighs lost their tension around him, and he very much felt like a balloon, nicked on something with edges too sharp.

Neji thought he was going to move, or get up, or do something that he deserved.

Instead, Shikamaru grabbed his hands, one in each, and threaded their fingers together. The vacuum between them filled, became warm, turned warm with all the things Shikamaru didn’t say. He squeezed his fingers, pulling Neji’s hands to clasp them on top of each thigh.

“Neji…”

“You don’t need to say anything...”

“You’re dumb if you think I’m gonna say nothing,” he whispered, and even without using his byakugan, Neji could still feel the intense gaze that settled over his body. “I’m also not going to say I have all the right… words, either, because who would I be kidding. But… what I  _ do  _ know... Neji,” he tugged on his hands, silently asking.

Neji complied, his heart in his throat at the way Shikamaru’s hands caressed his – how they climbed up his arms gently, firmly, admiring each piece of Neji they touched. How they molded to his chest, and his clavicle, and his neck.

“That anger in you… if anyone deserves it, it’s not  _ you  _ .”

Neji caught a sound in his throat before it even made it to his tongue, and it died there, loud enough to be heard but ignored – 

He looked to the side, because in the darkness, Shikamaru only ever gained traction; he only ever gained power and presence, and even now the feeling of such intensity was like that of the sun.

Here, Shikamaru was  _ too much  _ . Too bold. Too much to not feel like toppling beneath, and he would except he’d never ask him to.

He’d just pull him in, and let him weather out the storm in the embrace of the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grammar edit 12.30.2020 by the wonderful casey <3


	2. Part II | Falling In Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission goes south, and Neji doesn't have answers.
> 
> warnings for eating issues, body injury, discussions of trauma, and sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I couldn’t touch you without ruining you, so I didn’t touch you at all.”
> 
> — Mindy Nettifee, from “All I Had to Say For Myself”

{wherein nothing is familiar}

  
  


“I didn’t see you before you left! How was your vacation, Neji?”

There wasn’t a way to answer that that was both truthful and would also prevent a look of concern on his teacher’s face. Or, worse, there wasn’t a truthful answer that wouldn’t illicit questions and probing.

Neji smiled politely at Iruka, handing in his paperwork. “It was pleasant, Sensei. Thank you for asking.”

Iruka smiled up at him, then took a quick look at his paperwork. Pristine, unwrinkled, signed and filled out with academic legibility. 

Neji turned on his heel and made to leave the mission office, but a few steps in and Iruka called out to him.

“Neji! Wait a moment.”

There it was, that little coil of annoyance that took up residence in his mind, in his stomach like a roused snake. He was thankful that it was placid, calm, not having yet grown into any stronger feeling or movement. He turned around, and Iruka was filing away his papers in the shelves behind him.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say, I hope you don’t spread yourself too thin.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Iruka obviously dealt with kids enough to not let the bite of attitude bother him, and he smiled, placating him and his slightly brisk tone. But his eyes, there was knowledge in them – a recognition not dared spoken, just made visible. “I just mean, all these missions, they don’t leave a lot of room to breathe. Especially ANBU… so I  _ hope  _ you’re leaving breathing room,” he ended with a smile.

Neji smiled in response, already feeling the fleet in his feet as they urged him away from whatever pseudo-psych evaluation this was. “Thank you, Sensei. I’ll take that into consideration.”

The patient smile on Iruka’s face wavered ever so slightly, like maybe he was wanting to say something but didn’t know if it was appropriate to voice it, or that maybe he was disappointed; Neji didn’t stick around long enough to see if what he feared was right, if there was disappointment swimming in his eyes. 

It wasn’t his problem right now; the expectations of others was just another distraction to tune out, to not feed into because this was no longer his life to revolve around the insistence of others. Iruka was just another person whose eyes looked like  _ that  _ , who, with all his good intent, was not his responsibility to cater to. That was no longer his shape to bend to.

Still, he was bent. A shape both unfamiliar in the way it shouldn’t be there, in how it was a new contortion to make himself fall into and then out of; and familiar when it follows him everywhere he goes, much like a green mark he once wore.

~

_ This pity, it’s disgusting. _

The medic finished wrapping his thigh, the cuts cleaned out. 

_ Their looks, it’s like nothing has changed. _

The other medic is applying chakra to heal the bruises on his back, the interrupted chakra system.

“Was the mission… was it dangerous?”

The cold air stung his exposed skin, sitting on the medical table with three white-coats surrounding him. He shook his head.

“Forgive me for asking, I know it’s sealed records, it’s just… I just never had to patch you up so much before.”

Neji knew this, knew that he’d unwillingly put himself in this place. No one needed to tell him, and he shook his head again.

“Sorry…” The same medic said, retreating from his wounds and turning to leave. Neji almost felt bad, almost said something, but he couldn’t find it within himself to do anything besides get this over with, and head home.

~

It’s been one week since he came back to the ranks, and three hours since he returned from his first reinstatement mission. The perpetual rain that had seen him off at the main roads had not stopped pouring, and was the same rain that greeted him when he and his team returned – the gentle patter of it pebbling off the cobblestone and into the clean air; it was welcome, not just cleansing, but also serving as a repellent.

Neji almost breathed a sigh of relief, because returning to Konoha like  _ this  _ … it called for very little fanfare, not when the sharp winds and cold rain filled the sparse streets that stared back at him. The rain casted dull gray reflections from the shingles of the roofs and created a fine mist that parted at his feet. Very few people graced these streets for fear of getting soaked, and all that was left was a mute blanket that cast itself down over the leaf village.

It was as nice to look at as it was nice to be in – not a soul to bother him, not an eye from a nosy shop owner or knowledgeable shinobi to be cast in his direction. He’d not be assailed by people he knows today – well-meaning or not, close friend or acquaintance, there would be no spotlight, nor the need for pleasantries.

He clenched his fists around the thought, because he knew he was being too severe, and that even for his standards, his asocial tendencies were on the brink of being  _ too much  _ . Too enforced, too guarded, too intense that even he had difficulties defending it– he was thankful this one time that his normal nature was well known, that some things can just be brushed off as Neji being Neji. And something that he’d never truly considered to be a blessing was now the reason why most people wrote off his avoidance to simple  _ Hyuuga  _ elitism.

That lingering sentiment was, for the first time, serving him.

He didn’t agree with that assessment, but for now it did its job right. If someone were to bring it up later? That would be a matter for later, and he could be as dramatic and avoidant as he wanted right now – 

Until the fuss and fawning and  _ tabloids  _ slowed down into a skittering stop – normally it was the Hokage and the academy and Kakashi in the magazines, and now the Hyuuga were doing their time in the Konoha Times.

It was justified that he wanted to be left alone, dramatic but justified – could he find peace in daily activities without prying words of unwarranted affection? Could he be left to his own devices and not be made into the new target of well-meaning but ultimately ignorant well-wishers?

He huffed, pushing back his hair as the rain molded it to his cheeks, his forehead. He was halfway home, and for whatever reason, he was anticipating – what it was that set him on alert despite his mission being over and filed away, he had no idea. All he was aware of was the edge of his teeth, the feeling of his muscles tensing and un-tensing like he knew he was being followed...

His feet made quiet splatter in the puddles, and when he looked up from them, he realized that his instincts may have been further ahead of him than he thought because –

“Neji!”

His skin turned cold, as if letted and emptied of life within the seconds it takes to say his name.

He knew the direction it came from, he knew before he even called it out that it was Gai – he knew that when he cast a sidelong glance toward the restaurant to the right of him that he’d failed to consider that people he knew – his  _ teacher  _ – would be in the place he always took their team after a mission.

That same damn restaurant he’d shared meals with Lee and Tenten and Gai.

Gai, smiling huge like sunshine, tucked away under a blanket in his wheelchair as he looked out from the doorway. He was waiting for the rain to pass, no doubt – not that the rain alone would stop him, but  _ Kakashi  _ on the other hand…

“What are you doing walking in the rain, Neji? Don’t you have an umbrella my boy?” He called out, grin wide and familiar and boisterous.

Neji swallowed around the lump in his throat, felt like a viewer of his body and not a participant as his shoulder stiffened against the weight of his tactical bag. 

Gai waved him down, and Neji stalled against the gale. For a split second, he was hindered by his own nerves, and he didn’t have any words to offer his mentor no matter how much he wish he did. How much he ached to have words for him...

Thank gods it didn’t have to be him who had to speak, and he didn’t have to explain why his throat went dry, why he just  _ couldn’t  _ look him in the eye.

“You’re one to talk,” came from behind him, Kakashi following up as he pushed Gai’s chair to the covered patio. He looked as bored as ever, but the affection in his eyes was absolute as he gazed down onto his not-quite-rival. “You forgot ours and –”

“ _ I’m  _ not the one preventing us from going home! Let’s GO! You could run, so fast that we barely get wet.”

Neji started walking again, hoping against his honed Jounin instincts that their annoying banter would feed into itself endlessly and forever, and they’d lose all sense of their surroundings in favor of getting in the last word.

He was two steps forward before he was proven wrong. “Wait! Neji!”

He just kept walking, sparing a glance over his shoulder. “I have business right now, Sensei. I can’t talk.”

His heart raced, but it wasn’t uncontrollable – just wild and uncomfortable and foreign, a jackrabbit running in the night from sounds without shapes, snarls without physical presence. It wasn’t anything that he could put into words, or that he’d want to even if he had the perfect ones – it was the same driving force of instinct that he trusted in the field, the voice of gut and intuition and foresight that urged him to choose one path over the other, decide to retreat instead of trip a wire –-

Decide to take to swift feet as the sound of his name being called followed him in his wake.

~

That heavy feeling grew, but he knew what it was when he reached their door. It was weighted, it set his whole, wet body on fire in a way he wasn’t accustomed to because he hadn’t been away from Shikamaru like  _ this  _ in so long –

And it transformed, too – the nausea of walking through town, of unwarranted looks of caution over his shoulder, into a new type of inferno lighting within his stomach...

His hands shook with it; his attention wavered with it, though not enough to completely ignore the scenery of patio he was now under the protection of. It was more decorated than when he’d left it last week – there was a potted plant sitting in the inner corner, and a tiny little frog statue sat beside with gleeful smile. That, however, was as far as his attention allowed him to observe, and he brought himself back to  _ now  _ .

He opened the door, toed off his shoes, dropped the bag plastered to him with rain and the stink of his mission. Dropped it, shed it like his flak vest to the count of his racing heart like a drum counting off and dictating his every movement.

_ Thump, thump  _ – heavy, blood flow like the rhythm of hoofs taking to the ground.

He heard nothing from the house, but he knew Shikamaru heard  _ him  _ . Heard his every loud footstep, heard the disorder of him as he shed everything wet that was holding back his movement – prayed to the heavens that he might even hear his heart, the acrobats it was performing and all for  _ Shikamaru. _

His hands were shaking, but this was just fire in his stomach, coiled hot like a spring set to snap any second, any  _ slightest  _ instigation or heat.

Five days, it was too fucking long, too fucking much build up culminating to whatever the fuck was happening  _ now  _ .

He walked with poorly masked urgency down the shadows of their hall, hoping that one of them would lash out and land on him, lay hand on him and hold him down. He rounded the corner and passed the kitchen and Shikamaru was indeed there, staring in his direction because of course he knew, and heard, and anticipated him in return. 

Shikamaru sat on the floor with half crossed legs, elbow on the table in front of him, surrounded by a small amount of paperwork that immediately sharpened Neji’s teeth. He was twisted to face him and the doorway, and he was about to say something.

Neji was already there to swallow up anything Shikamaru had to say, swallowing the surprise and eating up the wide eyes that greeted his kneeling kiss. 

_ “Nej –”  _ But it was soon muffled by lips and sharp breaths.

Neji took one hand and propped it on the table, and took the other to push Shikamaru down. His breath filled the width between them, the small universe their bodies made when nothing else could hold a candle to  _ them  _ . And Shikamaru almost pushed back, if not for air then for  _ questions  _ , and Neji knew this in every moment their lips parted that he was on the brink of asking them.

_ How was your mission? _

_ Did you go to the hospital? _

_ Did you get hurt? _

There was only one question on Neji’s mind. He was half kneeling, half fallen over Shikamaru’s willing, pliant body, hand gripping his neck too hard and too strong, a tremor filling his nerves. “ _ Did you miss me?” _

Shikamaru’s breath matched his, hot and shuddering, confused and dazed – his eyes were blown out, his face caught in the shadow Neji’s head cast around him, and he looked so good he could be devoured like it was nothing...

“ _ Yes,”  _ Shikamaru said around gasping breath. “Neji, you–”

_ Not now.  _

“ _ I need you  _ ,” Neji said into his neck, against the scrape of his teeth as his hand pushed him off his elbows and finally,  _ finally  _ onto his back.  _ “I need you in me.” _

They both ignored the desperation, evading the plea bleeding from his voice in the pressure of slick lips on shuddering skin.

“Neji –”

He took Shikamaru’s hand, the one that wasn’t wrapped around the small of his back, and pressed it into the bulge of his pants, holding it there. “I thought of you – I needed you – I –” 

He took Shikamaru’s lips again, like the fire in his lungs could only be put out by sucking up every last bit of Shikamaru – his breath, his tongue, his lips.

“Did you think of me?” Neji whispered, and he doesn’t know why  _ now  _ this is so important, why he needs everything Shikamaru has and then maybe even more.

Shikamaru nodded, sucking in a breath. “ _ Yes  _ – all the time…”

“How much?”

Shikamaru’s neck grew pink, hot against his tongue, and he felt his voice shake. “Uhnn –  _ every night you were gone _ .”

"I want to hear," and then a breathless, " _ please. _ "

"I imagined it was you," and he squeezed the bulge in hand, "Your hands, your sounds... wasn't nearly as good, but I got off..."

“Do you need me? Do you –” 

Shikamaru gripped him where their hands were still pinned against the pressure of Neji’s dick. “Yes, Neji, I need–”

He dodged his lips, god knows how long they would have been in a cycle of heat if he hadn’t. “I need you Neji, I  _ need  _ you.”

He pulled Neji’s head back from the havoc he was creating on his neck, unclasping their hands to sit back on his elbows and force Neji back. Leaning, breathing in shudders, everything slowed down for just a moment. He looked like he was going to say something – it was there on the tip of his tongue, creeping into his gaze like a gazelle daring to step out into an open field.

It stung, how he was looking at him, not moving, not saying anything, not doing anything but anchoring him to his gaze with the hand on the back of his neck. What was he thinking that kept him so quiet, so openly observant? What in him was stirring when he saw Neji, when he felt him shake above him like a leaf taking to the breeze?

He was making decisions, it was clear; he had that same look he did in the field, in a game, in a tense meeting – the one that shows nothing but the turning gears. He was looking into the past, present, and future and trying to gauge where Neji’s mind was, why there was a fire in his movements that nearly steamrolled him into nothingness; trying to gauge why there were words he knew they haven’t yet said to each other, conversations laced in insecurities that Neji would rather die than admit to in the light of day, yet they needed to be said...

Neji refused to say anything, to slip; there was nothing to say. There was just  _ need  _ .

Evidently, Shikamaru saw this, and he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion.

Shikamaru moved his clasping hand, dragging it around to his jaw and leaving it there, feeling the tension of Neji’s jaw as his muscles rolled taut underneath. “Neji,” he said, voice dropped an octave, calm, calculated. The look in his eye was sharper than kunai, impenetrable because Shikamaru knew how to give nothing away; and his irises darkened like a gale crossing the sun, because the only thing he  _ couldn’t  _ hide was his arousal.

Neji swallowed, nodding his head in the only sort of acknowledgment he felt okay making. He was aware, now that his movements ceased and the room was painfully quiet except for his own breathing, that a new type of spotlight was shining on him.

One Shikamaru both saw through and cast upon him like it was nothing.

Shikamaru dragged the pads of his index and middle fingers across his cheek, slow, intentional. They pressed against his cheek, then to the corner of his lips, no urgency or speed behind them at all. 

Just patience, just dragging seconds and a new type of anticipation that made Neji’s thighs shake.

“Open,” Shikamaru whispered, middle finger tracing the crease of his lips with too much force.

He sticks his fingers in Neji’s mouth, almost without Neji even needing to move, because his lips were parted for him. 

“Keep it open, Neji.”

He listened, and when his two fingers forked around his tongue, swirled and pressed against the soft, wet muscle, Neji’s mind was blank. Empty, so empty that he couldn’t even remember what he was feeling just an hour ago, couldn’t remember the anticipation awaiting him in every waking moment…

A minute passed before Shikamaru got bored, and when he demanded he suck on them, Neji was  _ gone  _ .

~

“Bad mission?”

Neji didn’t know how to answer that. Yes? No? They were both true. He rolled over, tucking his face into Shikamaru’s chest, tugging the blanket over them. “In a sense…”

“You got hurt.”

“It looks worse than it is… I— needed you…”

“Hmm,” he held him closer to his chest. “I needed you, too.”

Neji would tell him more some day – there would be a day his tongue would be loose enough to say the thoughts he was constantly on the edge of speaking.

Some day, but not today.

~

Shikamaru was  _ mad  _ . And this time, he was right to be.

He was, however, a calm variety of mad, but that was somehow worse. “This is your second mission and you’re arguing whether or not one day is enough recovering time? This is too close to the cut, even for ANBU. Even for you.”

“You never had a problem with my schedule before, Shikamaru,” Neji said, finishing his count of weapons at the kitchen table. 25 of everything, extra incendiaries, several med packs, and he was ready to go. His eyes remained on the task at hand, and not Shikamaru’s presence.

“You were never ANBU before,  _ Neji  _ , and what’s more, it’s unnecessary. Our forces are stacked, we’re not a skeleton crew that demands every shinobi gets overworked into an early retirement anymore. That’s not a valid reason anymore, and what’s worse is that –”

“Duty is duty, it’s not some leisure, it’s not  _ vacation  _ .”

“I’m aware of this, and I’ve done my fair share –”

Neji scoffed, and he couldn’t take it back despite wanting to the second it happened. “Of what? Sitting in an office, writing things down and looking over records and talking? That’s your  _ fair  _ share, isn’t it?”

Shikamaru was all jagged edges now, but calm and collected ones that make his fraying ones look pathetic and shaky. He was leaning against the kitchen counter with his hands in his pockets, next to the breakfast he made because he woke up early.

“Pretty big talk, Neji,” He started, looking down at him at a slight angle with the coldest eyes Neji’s ever seen directed at him. “I thought I knew your opinions, and I  _ thought  _ I had your respect.” 

Shikamaru averted his eyes, looking anything but enthused: it’s the lazy appearance he feels comfortable in, the way he likes approaching any situation because that’s his way of controlling it. Shikamaru shrugged his shoulders, and many would assume he truly  _ meant  _ the nonchalance, that the well-developed casualness was real. 

_ Many  _ were not Neji, and Neji could see the chipped corners of his pride, of his feelings, flaking away, even when he looked back to Neji with a steady, calm gaze. “Guess I was wrong about that. Thankfully, though, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m right.”

“It’s what you think, not what you know.”

“I’m not speculating, you’re –”

“You can’t tell me what to do with this, Shikamaru.”

“You’re acting –”

“I’ll act as I want.”

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, cocked his head to match his stance, and Neji’s heart skipped several beats. “This is what you want?”

Neji doesn’t say it, but most of the time, Shikamaru  _ is  _ right. It’s half the reason why he’s so fucking insufferable sometimes, and the reason why Neji was mad; it was the fuel to the rattling thoughts and feelings that rolled around in his head in constant clash.

The silence stretched out before Shikamaru spoke up. “What, you’re not going to say bye?”

And, he doesn’t say it, but he knows that Shikamaru’s not motivated by keeping the peace, he’s not motivated by cushioning the blow – he’s motivated by telling the truth, by being so fucking honest that it can pierce, and telling Neji he loves him anyway.

Neji got up and removed himself from their claustrophobic kitchen without another word – he’d say something horrible, anyway. He walked away from their door as it closed too loudly behind him, and his hands ached like they spent hours tearing down bricks and concrete and mortar. They ache, squeezing too hard, feeling like they’re ready to explode unless they sink into something and pull it apart.

_ What’s wrong with you? _

His hands don’t stop aching on his way through town, not even as he and his team head out the gates on another week long mission. 

It’s sunny today, upsettingly bright and over saturated and blistering despite the cold breeze. It’s troublesome how bright everything is, how shadows were tiny puddles in the face of the sun. It was uncomfortable, and he missed the rain and clouds more than anything in that moment.

He gritted his teeth against the small whispers of conversation happening around him, knowing that the loneliness he felt was his and his alone to own.

~

It’s the Hyuuga. Curse or not, choice or not, that doesn’t change the fact that  _ this  _ is what happens to Hyuuga, or those who associate with them. Hyuuga don’t thrive, they just entrench themselves in their power, and those around them must deal with the ripples from every cast stone.

It’s what they do, how they tear apart things and dismiss it without a single thought of consolation or care. Actions don’t have consequence, not with a bloodline like theirs. Not with the notoriety, the unrivaled nature of their harrowing stoicism.

Neji throws up again, and his team slowed to a stop from atop the branches.

He and his team were successful, and in this mission all five of their colleagues have kept themselves from needing the hospital. No one had been injured, they were all okay, and they were on their way home to their loved ones yet again, and Neji can’t stop his stomach from emptying itself of acid onto the canopy of the forest.

“Are you okay?” Senji came up beside him. “Is the Genjutsu still disorienting you?”

_ No, no, no  _ . 

“I’m okay.”

“Lets get you water,” Senji continues, and over Neji’s bent knees he can hear quiet rustling of a ninja pack.

_ This is your price to pay, right?  _

And then it happened. Neji knew it was going to happen before it happened, but there wasn’t enough time for him to warn them and react – the perimeter he was supposed to uphold with his Byakugan was entered, infiltrated from four sides, and all he could do was  _ react  _ .

The ambush that ensued was tragic, and it was Neji’s fault.

~

He caused this.

_ I caused this  _ .

Neji doesn’t often cry – when he does, it’s selfish and self-serving and usually in the presence of Shikamaru. It’s usually late at night, in the comfort of darkness, when he doesn’t have to be seen, doesn’t have to look Shikamaru in the eye.

He saw Senji off to the hospital once they made it, and his team scattered in the hospital to file reports, to make their time busy and full. Neji started on paper work, but halfway through, he’s trying to push himself to be that stoic Hyuuga that desperately hated, but at least didn’t weep publicly. 

He looked at his hands, how they were still rough with combat. They clenched the clipboard and pen, white knuckled against the pain. 

_ Not now. _

The news that his fellow ANBU member was alive was good in the sense that he didn’t want him to die, but knowing he was disabled beyond the reaches of medicine and surgery was another matter altogether – one that might have been avoidable, though no one can reach into the past and decide what could and couldn’t have happened.

Neji thought like this, knew the past was enduringly set in stone, but in his heart he knew the difference he could have made.

~

Neji was waiting in the lobby of the top floor of the hospital, in the dying golden sunlight that glowed against the egg white walls. It felt emptier than normal at this hour, even though the receptionist was still there with him in the shared silence. Neji sat with his back to the sun, facing the double-doors that lead back into the tunnels of medical hallways and operating rooms. He tried, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually go back there.

But he also couldn’t bring himself to tell Shikamaru about any of this– though he must know by now, since they brought an injured ANBU back and were awaiting further news on the extent of injuries. Shikamaru would have already known he was back, would have known everything went south – he would have known it was because of Neji.

Neji hadn’t cleaned up; he was still in his field clothes with his mask in his hands, and he was sure that if he saw Shikamaru, or anyone for that matter, he’d want to kill himself.

He didn’t  _ actually  _ want to kill himself– there were more levels to sink to before he’d even entertain such an idea outside it being an overused expression. It was all he could say that would bear levity to the weight of this situation, it meant more than saying he didn’t want to see anyone, that he didn’t want to be seen… 

Knowing someone was in the hospital, and he could have prevented it...

_ You call yourself shinobi? You call yourself a partner? You call yourself human? _

The only human thing he recognized within himself was shame, and he clung to it like he did the porcelain mask that he kept between his legs. He looked through its eyes to the tiled floor, squeezed it to see if it would break, and relaxed in defeat when it didn’t. 

He’d been waiting for a few hours, but he couldn’t say how long it had actually been. In this ward, there were few people wandering to and fro and time was as still as a pond. This was the restricted ward, meant only for higher up shinobi and government officials, and as of right now, the only active case was an injured ANBU.

Neji’s focus was so singular, funneled into the mask in his hands, that he couldn’t tell whose footsteps were coming down the hallway. He thought it was the surgeon he’d seen before, or maybe a nurse, so he looked up to the doors and waited for whoever was on the other side.

The double doors opened, but just before, the feeling of  _ that  _ chakra, and Neji felt his blood leave his face. Naruto stepped through, and he must have been expecting him to be there because his eyes went straight to Neji.

Neji was about to say something, but Naruto turned to the receptionist and whispered something to her over the counter. Neji held his breath, realizing that he’d dismissed her. She left with a small bow, and Naruto smiled as she took off to the other set of doors. 

His smile waned once she was gone, replaced with a distant look as he watched the door quietly shut behind her.

He didn’t necessarily look sad, and he didn’t even look disappointed. The distant, far-off look in his eyes was still very much present, rooted in the now, but overwhelmed with too much depth that it was a chore to put a name to them all. And gods know that Naruto can’t contain his emotions to save his life, that he has no choice but to share them, so when he faced Neji with wide, expectant eyes, Neji couldn’t bear it at all.

Neji’s stomach was emptied of everything but disaster – churning, and loudly growling, almost as much in anger as it was repulsion.

Naruto’s swimming eyes turned up a bit, a softer smile that became a gentle grin gracing after hearing his stomach growl. “Wow, you must be really hungry.”

Neji wanted to cry at the change of tone, at not having to see the reverence and sadness and confusion that filled Naruto’s eyes. Even if it was a minute long distraction, just a bump in the conversation, it was mercy enough – one he didn’t deserve, but was thankful for nonetheless. They’d talk about food, and the mission, a housewarming, and maybe that could be it.

Neji forced a smile but it felt rotten on him, so disingenuous and cold, so he looked away quickly. “Yeah, maybe a bit. Maybe I should eat.”

“But you won’t.”

Whether or not that was a comment on his current state of health, or just on waiting to hear the medical news from the doctors, Neji didn’t quite know. “But I won't,” he nodded, squeezing the mask a bit harder this time.

Naruto took a seat beside him, and they both stared into the flat barricade of the white double-doors. There was no sound coming from behind.

The AC kicked on above them, and it was some sort of blessing that it replaced the silence, even if it was soft and quickly sank into the background.

“He’s going to be fine,” Naruto started, a small, relieved sigh on his lips. “The initial assessment, that he’d have to retire, is starting to look a lot different now.”

Neji sighed too, and at least some part of the anxiety in him waned. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“There aren’t much details on the report though... do you want to fill me in?”

Neji’s stomach churned silently, violently. 

_ Not now. Don’t you fucking dare. _

“We were ambushed,” he started, slow, deliberate – his hands shook ever so slightly, until he forced them to stop. “I didn’t see the tail we had, and by the time I noticed, it was too late to get the upper hand. We – we were moving, and our formation was not equipped to handle the four shinobi without compromising… we handled it fast, but Senji was… he was caught off guard.”

The silence that returned was stifling, like heat. Neji knew Naruto was just thinking it through, processing and considering the scenario he was presented with– but it was still unwelcomed.

What he’d done was unacceptable, and he heard it in his mind as Shikamaru’s voice – unkind and harsh and so unlike the man himself, a twisted version of the one of the last words he’d spoken to him before this mission. 

_ “This is what you want?”  _ And then,  _ “You wanted people to suffer because of you?” _

Naruto huffs out a breath beside him, and doesn’t let the chilling impersonation of Shikamaru say anymore. He knows that Naruto tilted his head toward him, trying to make some sort of connection. Naruto likes to have his moments, the intimate ones of connection where he says something profound, so Neji knows that this is probably one of them.

He was wrong. “Damn, that really sucks!” 

Neji hums, glancing toward Naruto as a courtesy. “It does.”

“Well, we can’t control everything. Even the most planned missions with the best Shinobi will go sour, and that’s just… well, I’ve seen it happen too many times. It just  _ happens  _ ,” he says with a chuckle, not the type that’s funny, just the type that does so for its own sake. “Doesn’t make it any easier,” he adds, quieter, and Neji looks toward him again, only to lock eyes.

Neji doesn’t look away, not just yet.

“It’s pretty hard to wait on the news...”

Neji’s jaw flexes, and he acts like Naruto doesn’t see the tension. 

Naruto has his own way of making people feel at ease, and it’s probably his strongest asset as Hokage. His blue eyes were strong and warm, open in a way most people aren’t. They didn’t flinch, either. “You said you didn’t see them, right? The shinobi who were following you?”

Neji shakes his head. “No.”

Naruto hums, nodding a bit. “I spoke with Akinari, he said you were feeling ill right before the attack.”

Neji closes his eyes, but doesn’t dare face away. It was going to happen, it  _ had  _ to happen – whatever made him think he’d be able to keep this under wraps was gone. What made him think it was possible, with a Ninja in the hospital?

Naruto continued, because this was his time to speak. “He told me you were throwing up, that you weren’t on high alert… his first thought was Genjutsu, right? I heard the assailants were already strong Genjutsu masters. Obviously, it will be disorienting…”

Neji supplied the next words, eyes pressed closed. “But…”

He could hear the smile in Naruto’s voice. “But… but I don’t think that’s right. I know that you faced a strong Genjutsu, and you were tired on your way back. But I don’t think it was enough to hurt you, or enough to cause you to lose sight of your priorities – I’m willing to bet this isn’t the cause of this situation we’re in now.”

“I’m –”

“Neji, I’m not blaming this on you – there were four other ANBU with you, and you all held your own, so saying this would have been different is… well, it’s not true. But I was thinking that maybe –”

A spark of anger lit in Neji, and he was thankful for it, for it burning away parts of the nausea that was threatening to spill over. He opened his eyes, greeted by Naruto’s, and let it feed into his words. “It’s good to know you’re not accusing me of anything, Naruto, but there’s nothing that needs to be said about this. It’s over, and I won’t make the same mistake this time.”

“Neji, we should talk… I was hoping it wouldn’t be like this, but this is the first I’ve seen you since…”

A heatwave erupts in Neji, starting at his cheeks and ending on his chest – he has a lot to own up to, it seems; he has so much stacked, so much to say, to so many people, and it’s a weight that nearly crushes him.

It was selfish to think that it was  _ only  _ crushing him, so Neji bites his tongue to will the spark of anger back down. 

_ This isn’t about you right now. _

Naruto had looked so sad last he’d seen him – back in the courts, in front of the public, when he had been detailing too many things he wished he didn’t have to. Naruto looked like was going to cry, and Neji couldn’t stand it.

“Neji... I wanted to–” Naruto started, and Neji could feel him shift, knew he was reaching for him in  _ some  _ way.

It was instinct at this point, how he rushed to hold his forehead, to press against it like it’ll keep the splitting pain from penetrating him – his anticipation was back, and he was waiting for the feeling of lightning to spread across him like it had so many times before.

His hands rushed, and the sound of the mask clashing against the tile was like a blast in a war zone. 

“I know,” Neji says after a few seconds, once the anticipating heat and ghost feelings left his skin, left him holding his head and thinking that now would be a good time to just leave; to stop being dramatic, demanding so much from his friend with nothing to repay him with.

Neji’s voice was shaky – controlled enough to not completely fumble, but not enough to keep the quiver from poisoning a word every so often. “I heard you’ve been trying to see me.”

“I just… I miss you, Neji. I want to know how you’re doing. I don’t want to force you, so I haven’t tried that hard...”

Naruto placed his right palm at the center of Neji’s back, sending a shock through Neji. But he didn’t try to stop him, didn’t shoo him away or bite back like he might have been tempted. He just sighs, and is guilty and thankful that someone can stand him after the way he’s been acting.

Naruto rubs, leaving a warm trail across his shoulder blades. “You don’t have to talk to me, but I want you to know you can. What else are friends for!”

Neji smiled into his hands. This wasn’t a situation he could have anticipated – any stray thought involving Naruto and his insistence that he wants to talk ended with him getting mad that his friend was trying to pry into business that wasn’t his. It was like waiting for a second trial, except this one was about him and him alone.

“Thank you, Naruto…”

Naruto giggled at it, clearly happy that Neji was cooperating in some sense. “Any time, Neji! But… I, uh, still have something to say.”

It was obvious what he was going to say.

“I know today wasn’t about action or inaction, and everyone walked away, but I know you’ve been having, uhhhh, focus issues, so I’m going to… I have to suspend you.”

Neji wanted to snap back, but that wasn’t easy to do to someone like him. Not to the Hokage, who still comforted him with a hand on his back. Not to Naruto, who he knows  _ has  _ to suspend him.

Neji just sighed, removing his hands and pulling himself out of his hunched posture. He looked forward again, to the white doors and whatever else was hidden behind them. “For how long.”

Naruto hesitated. “That’s up to you.”

Neji huffed. That could be a long time. 

“And…” Naruto continued, and Neji did turn toward him this time, to the nervousness that suddenly took resistance in his voice. “Shikamaru, he’s been worried… he told me…”

“ _ What?  _ What is he saying?  _ ” _

“Nothing! I swear, it’s just about ANBU services. He told me not to suspend you, but that was before this… truth be told, I’m worried about you both, but I’m not going to overstep my boundaries and offer help unless its wanted. I’m doing this because I have to, but when you come back…well, you can tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll trust you.”

_ There Shikamaru goes, again… defending me, despite... _

Neji can’t really do anything beside nod in agreement. He’s right – he’d been running around with too much baggage, and it finally caught up and caused something so pointless as this. And now, because he couldn’t handle it by himself, he had to do it like this, laid bare in front of an audience yet again.

“I’m sorry, Neji… I –”

“I know what you have to do. I know the reason.”

Naruto hummed, like that was the best he could offer. He patted Neji’s back once more before returning to his own space, joining Neji and staring at the door. They sat there quietly for a while, neither of them attempting to make the silence into anything more.

Sometimes silence was necessary, sometimes it was a mercy, and sometimes it was a pity.

He’d be able to tell normally, which one it was – distinguish the motivation behind it, hear the lilt and intonations and read the body language, and he’d be able to tell if it was something worth holding on to or not. But not today, not even if he could bear to look Naruto head on and interpret it all himself. Not that he could even bear to ask, because Naruto would tell him if he did.

It’s a good thing he didn’t want to know. 

But there was still another matter…

“Naruto…”

“Hmm?”

His heart picked up, making his breath shudder through the too loud and thunderous pace – and his voice, it died like wind breaking through branches. “Don’t… don’t tell Shikamaru…”

_ Don’t hurt him too  _ .

“Neji…”

“He… I’ve… he doesn’t need to know everything...”

_ I’ve made his life a struggle. _

“Um… he already knows, Neji – he’s here, since he has to also… oversee the paperwork while I sign off on the surgery.”

Neji knew it in his heart, knew there wasn’t any way to keep this humility from shining bright like a beacon, for the public to see, for his peers to see, for his friends to see, for his  _ love  _ to see. It was wishful thinking, the type he wasn’t prone to, that he’d receive such a small mercy.

The universe was fond of irony, since the doors opened in the silence that followed, and Shikamaru walked through them. He looked solemn, tired especially in the last of the dusk light– the bags under his eyes were more pronounced, and even from here Neji could smell the smoke that wrapped around him. In a way, it was pleasant – the special scent that always, no matter what and where, smelled like Shikamaru. Like him, his laugh, his wandering hands, his words of encouragement, the bed they shared – pleasant and utterly inviting, and that was probably why he broke right there. 

Why looking Shikamaru in the eye made him want to leave, to apologize, to beg, to bury himself – he didn’t know which instinct to indulge, so he indulged them all.

Before he turned away, he saw the look Shikamaru gave Naruto, which was obviously the reasoning behind Naruto’s next words.

“Well,” he said, a bit too brightly given the atmosphere. He stood up, a glancing finger brushing against Neji’s back as a final act of consolation. “I have to get going – I still have work, and Sasuke is waiting to hear back…”

“Yeah,” Shikamaru added, and his drawl and timbre and  _ everything  _ hit Neji, a plowing train that he had no hopes of withstanding. “I’ll be heading your way soon, I just need to grab some paper work from Sakura.”

Neji watched them from the corner of his eye, the way Naruto approached Shikamaru. He stood so tall these days, so assured and empowered. Neji envied it.

“Actually, I got it,” Naruto said, resting a hand behind his head in a sheepish moment. “Go home! You’ve helped out enough, I got it from here.”

Shikamaru’s eyes widened, staring blankly for a moment. “Naru –”

Naruto slapped him a little too vigorously on the shoulder. “No arguing! Most of my work is coming home with me tonight, so don’t worry, Maru!”

Shikamaru groaned, but Neji could see the relief hidden deep in his eyes. “How many times am I gonna have to tell you to stop calling me that?”

“A lot! Or, I'll say it as much as it takes before you stop reacting,” and he was grinning. Then he turned to Neji, who fought against every instinct in his body and kept his attention to Naruto. “What would I do without this guy, huh?! Well, I’m heading out. See you guys… soon?”

Shikamaru patted his shoulder, and though he looked tired, he still smiled. “Thanks, Naruto. And yeah, soon. I’ll let you know. Now get home, before I kick your ass.”

Naruto grinned at the two, sparing a wave before he left them.

The room plunged into a weird stale-mate almost immediately.

That anticipating feeling came back nearly just as quick, and Neji knew it wasn’t fair. In the past week or so, between moments of peace and fighting on his mission, he’d put his finger down on a definition for this anticipation. Not a clear one, not one that could easily be put into words – more like one that moved under hand, the way it feels to fish with your bare hands as the sun is going down. He’d grasped at pieces, skimmed the edge, and was getting a hold of it, yet the whole had yet to be seen.

It was something about failing, about crumbling, about needing help or fucking up – the aftermath of it all,  _ that  _ was the stalker to his nervous system, to his every thought. It was the reason behind the headaches that come and go.

It was the reason why he couldn’t stand letting Shikamaru down; it was the reason he felt like running from him, as much as he felt like returning to him. 

Shikamaru was the braver of the two today, and Neji heard him approach, breaking the stale-mate. Shikamaru’s sandals appeared on the ground in front of him, facing him, too close to him – he leaned down to pick up Neji’s mask, and then hands were on his crown, resting without further ambitions.

Neji kept his eyes faced down, because this time they really were filling, and they had nowhere to go but overboard. The only thing he could to do is keep himself from sinking into the feeling threatening to climb up and shake him from the inside out. If he just stays like this, keeps his calm and his mind in check long enough to find somewhere else to let it go…

Somewhere not under hands like this. Somewhere where Shikamaru wasn’t so fucking kind, so self-sacrificing, where he would rather give Neji this comfort before anything else needs to be said. 

His patience was so otherworldly; his love was so devout and intense, it was incredible to Neji how he could offer intimate comforts like this despite all Neji has done. And then there’s Neji, who makes his life a balancing act of sleepless nights and reassurances every day because Neji is the one who can’t bear to be honest or vulnerable. 

Neji can’t even help himself, and he can’t help the one who tries the hardest to help  _ him  _ .

All of this help, and Neji couldn’t even give Shikamaru the courtesy of kindness. Neji was swimming in these thoughts, and the tears came fast – this time, at least, he had something worth crying over. Not long-since-past memories, not clan bullshit...

He had Shikamaru to cry over this time, because he can’t give him the care and comfort and whatever the hell else he needs because he’s too wrapped up in himself. So wrapped up in himself that he jeopardized a mission and caused a hospitalization.

How could he feel deserving? How could he justify his actions when they landed him in a place like this? Shikamaru deserved better than this. He deserved something that’s not going to bite at his hand, not going to attack when all he does is give him open arms, open ears, and no pressure to do anything except…

Except… 

He doesn’t know what word it is, he just knows that  _ heal  _ isn’t the right one. Not a big enough one, not one that could at least make sense of the mess he’s created. 

Healing shouldn’t look like this… healing shouldn’t come at the cost of the one he loves.

“You’re pretty quiet down there,” Shikamaru says when more than a few moments passed. “Do my feet look funny?”

Neji snorts at the way he wiggles his toes, and he’s aware how easy it is to hear the tears in his voice. “Yes.”

Shikamaru is featherlight with his touch, and with the way he starts to massage, it would have felt nice – comforting, even – if it was not  _ too  _ kind.

_ I don’t deserve… _

“Well, stop looking at them. You’re gonna make me self-conscious... Look up here.”

Neji shakes his head.

“Come on, Neji…”

“I should – stay here. Until Senji is okay.”

Shikamaru tugged a bit. “No, I don’t think so.”

“He –”

“He’s going to be fine. I just came from seeing him and Sakura has it under control… he’s going to be okay, he just needs time to recover.”

Neji’s chest was tight, suppressing his voice. His energy, every ounce of adrenaline that flooded his system, was leaving him faster than he was prepared for. What it left behind was queasiness, was an indescribable weight that wouldn’t let him go home or face Shikamaru.

Shikamaru made the decision for them, moving his hands and leaning down to take Neji’s in their grasp. He pulled, like he was a kite on the ground. “Don’t avoid me, Neji… come on, lets go home.”

He tugged again, and Neji got up this time. He kept his attention on their hands, before Shikamaru took one and tilted his gaze up by the chin. 

He focused on the reception desk behind him.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

With tight lips, cause so much he wants to say might slip past, he shakes his head.

“Neji, don’t make me beg…I want to see you.”

Neji couldn’t hear his tired plea and ignore it, so he looked. In the dying sunlight, with the heavy sleep burdening eyes, and he was beautiful all the same; he was too much, all the same – so much so, he would shrink like a shadow to a flame if he could. 

Shikamaru got close, pulling him by the anchor of their clasped hand, and kissed his cheek. “You don’t have to avoid me, it’s okay.”

Neji nodded, it’s all he could do.

And then, with another kiss, in a voice that went straight to his eyes. “Good boy.”

They went home to a warm shower, a warm bed, and a warm embrace.

~

Neji slept on the side of the bed he always laid on, but he didn’t know where to be. He’d never felt this out of place, especially not in his bed with Shikamaru. Does he get close to Shikamaru like the selfish part of him wants, or does he keep his distance like he knows he should? He’d been too harsh, too sharp, that he shouldn’t expect Shikamaru to hold that same warm space for him, like he can say and act as he wishes and expect Shikamaru to comfort him like always does...

He doesn’t want to gravitate away, either – what if Shikamaru thought he was still trying to avoid him? What if that distance would only hurt Shikamaru, make him feel like a stranger in the space that was supposed to be theirs? 

But then Shikamaru shuffled closer behind him, and pressed his lips against his back.

~

“What’s this?”

“It’s a plant, Neji.”

“I know that… but why?”

“It was on discount at Ino’s, so I figured I’d take it before it dies on the rack.”

Shikamaru looked over to him, where he was still eyeing the Monstera in the corner of the kitchen. “We needed some decoration, and Ino needed it gone.”

Neji eyed it speculatively, but not in an unappreciative way. He goes over to the stove, like he’d planned before he spotted the new greenery in their space, and started breakfast. 

Without looking over his shoulder, he said, “We can have Naruto over. For housewarming… if you wanted, that is…”

“That sounds good to me,” he said, and he sounded like he was smiling. 

~

Neji didn’t address it once they came back, and he didn’t address it all of today as he waits for Shikamaru to come home. It burns in his mind, and it turns into idle energy as he aimlessly looks for things to occupy his time. He knew there was a lot he could be doing that wouldn’t waste his time that wasn't quite as pathetic as him waiting in an empty house and pacing, but for the most part that’s all he could do.

He watered the plant, because the soil looked dry and he was certain Shikamaru hadn’t done it the entire time it was taking up residence in the kitchen. He straightened up the shelves, cleared out the fridge, and did the laundry that had piled up in his absence.

He was still restless by the time Shikamaru returned, but at least the smell of dinner brought a light to Shikamaru’s tired eyes that made it worth it. It was the least he could do.

Shikamaru sat down his bag, along with his open flak jacket, and looked at Neji like he hung the stars in the sky. It was too much, too inaccurate, but Neji let it be, and let him bring him into a kiss. “Everything smells great, thank you.”

“Always,” Neji says, and he means it. It’s still tense between them; they haven’t really talked – when did they even have the time to between last night and this moment? There was still a lot hanging in the air between them, clouds of words floating back and forth and ready for the plucking. Whenever that inopportune moment was that they’d crash down, Neji wasn’t sure about how he’d respond when it finally did happen.

Then Shikamaru came back down from his shower, glowing and looking especially pretty from the steam, and chose that moment to pluck a word from the invisible cloud. He looked to the seating, to the plates, and took his place at the table. 

“You’re gonna eat with me.”

It wasn’t the worst choice from the unspoken word cloud, and what’s more is that he was right. Neji knew he had to – this lingering nausea or whatever the fuck it was, was lasting too long.

He sat down, with a bowl of rice and a side of kimchi. It was way less than Shikamaru’s portions, less than even he’d normally eat, but it was a step up and Shikamaru didn’t say anything about it.

“If it’s hard to eat,” Shikamaru said, chopsticks foraging through steamed veggies. “Eat smaller amounts. I’m not about forcing you or anything, but I  _ am  _ about you eating what you can.”

“I don't know why I’m…”

He was going to say  _ ill  _ , but the look Shikamaru gave him over a bite of salmon stopped him. He shrugged, took another bite of rice, and didn’t say anything.

He knew why. Sort of. The shapeless form that keeps slipping from his hands was becoming more and more clear, the answer to why everything was so  _ off  _ close and within reach.

But then Shikamaru was the one who said it. “It’s trauma, Neji.”

Neji felt like choking on the rice, but at least he kept it down.

~

“Do you regret living with me?”

The question, uttered with such insecurity, such fragility, knocked every thought out of Neji. He didn’t expect to ever hear those words, and he never expected to hear them  _ now  _ .

Shikamaru walked into their bedroom, hair wet, in sleep shorts and nothing more. He’d sat down on their bed, watching Neji as he stretched on the floor.

Neji felt his eyes on his back, anticipated  _ something  _ , but wasn’t prepared for this. 

Neji turned around, leaning on one arm to get up from his lotus. Shikamaru was looking at the wall with their pictures on it, toweling off his hair with too much attention and care. 

His heel was tapping, his hands busy, his eyes at half mast. He was anxious, it was as clear as day.

What monster makes their partner feel such a way? 

_ Me  _ .

“No,” Neji answered after a beat, after the surprise left his system and he could move his mouth. “No, I don’t.”

_ You don’t do this to someone you love. _

Shikamaru looked so defeated – it was easy to see, all the things that he supports, all the responsibilities, all of it lead him to this moment, this question. He was such a pillar for others, and he’d always been a pillar of himself and Neji.

Lately, he’d just been a pillar of one.

“This is my home,” Neji said, not knowing what the right words, the right combination, would be that would remove the sadness from his face; what could take away the weight, what could convince him with absolute conviction that he was telling the truth?

Shikamaru stopped drying his hair, holding the ends of the towel as they rested around his neck and shoulders. “When you said you were sure about this house… are you still sure?”

Neji crawled over on his knees to the bed, directly in front of Shikamaru. He put his hands on his knees, asking him as silently as possible to  _ look at me  _ ; he asked like Shikamaru always does for him, how he wanted him to know that it was okay to face each other, that he  _ wanted  _ his attention.

_ Look at what you’ve done  _ , Neji though, seeing someone normally so assured now powerless. The one person he loved like life, like breath, thinks he regrets…  _ him  _ .

Shikamaru’s braver than him, and he looked down with a shaky gaze. 

In earnest, Neji squeezed his knees. “I’m still sure. This…  _ fuck  _ … it’s all me, the mess I’ve made that makes you think this… it’s because of me.”

He leaned into him, between his legs, resting his head there. It was the only gesture he could make, the only way to lay himself bare, that he might be believed. “I’m sorry.” He pulled his legs in, kissed his inner thigh. “I’m  _ lucky  _ for you and I’m so sorry…”

He stared up then, when Shikamaru didn’t say anything, and tried not to blink. He tried to impart that sentiment even if it meant his eyes would dry, or he would break, or starve. Shikamaru met him halfway, probed into the white irises that met him, searching for the truth.

“Do you want me?”

Neji nodded in earnest.

Shikamaru laced one hand behind Neji’s head, gripping hard. “Do… you need me?”

Neji’s eyes are wet. “Always.”

Shikamaru found the truth he sought, and pulled Neji in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wheww. this ones tough! neji's really going through it, huh...
> 
> the next chapter is on its way but i've also put myself in a position where this might be four chapters bc like most stories, this one is taking its own shape!
> 
> i'd also like to say that i haven't watched shippuden, i just know a lot about it, so any mistakes in continuity are my own. however, i make my own canon lol. 
> 
> grammar edit 12.30.2020 by the wonderful casey <3
> 
> the next chapter is gonna have a gai scene and i'm literally anxious in anticipation for it ;-;


	3. Part III | Stalemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's easier to want people's hate rather than their understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “—Imparadise me. Because, God, / I am guilty. I am sin-frenzied and full of teeth / for pear upon apple upon fig.”
> 
> — Natalie Diaz, from “Ode to the Beloved’s Hips,” Postcolonial Love Poem

{wherein guilt is its own master}

It was with regret, so tarnished and unrecognizable, that his eyes met the world around him; within him. It was vast and yet so filled, so impossibly filled; sin overflowed the brims, guilt for all that it touched, for it might, too, turn into an ugly shape.

Its overflow crawled like worms through rot toward all that tried to feed it, tried to cure it — treated those hands all the same no matter how soft, gentle, tender, or crushing. 

Neji didn’t understand how this came to be, how the anger turned itself inside out; how his own wishes could not undo it, and how they could only atrophy him to the ways it could be undone.

~

He might be incurably  _ Hyuuga  _ . 

If he could rip it from his being and start fresh, he would without question.

~

Neji was sweating under the sun, adrenaline in swift decline as he took a seat on the log at the corner of the field. The training fields were the same as they had been when he was still genin — there was more wear and tear, a few of the trees on the outer edges were taller, but otherwise it was the same place he’d grown to know, even more than his own home.

This, however, was a much warmer place than home, and if asked about home, about the best parts of his childhood, he’d think of here first. He’d think of Gai’s apartment, too, but that was neither here nor there.

He wrapped his left hand in white bandages, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth at the compression against scuffed chakra marks. It wasn’t the worst injury, but it was a careless misuse of chakra anyway he looks at it. He tied the bandage up to the elbow and slowly unfolded the edges of his long sweatshirt to roll over it. 

His joints ached like he’d put them through the trauma of war all over again, but it was just the temporary pain of training. He knew this. He relied on it. It would fade in a night’s sleep, and he’d be free to repeat it yet again in the morning.

It wasn’t the smartest use of his time, but it was, at least to his admission, a productive one. It occupied him and his time well, and he’d not be worse for wear once he’s reinstated. 

Two birds, one stone, and one reckless injury.

He gritted his teeth, a sharp pain in his jaw at the tension, as he straightened out his left arm. At first, slow, careful to stretch, to straighten, then —

_ Fuck. _

He immediately dropped it with a grunt, a sharp pain peaking in his forearm and travelling through his muscles and tendons, only to dead end in his elbow. Even holding it close, the pain was subsiding in a slow ebb, and he knew this injury, even if it wasn’t the worst he’d had, was  _ definitely  _ the most careless.

_ You’ve gone too far. _

He took in another deep breath, steadying himself against his body’s aches. Finally, when it was clear he wouldn’t be able to do anything more today, he stood. He left the sunny training field behind him, returning to the lowlight of home to meditate.

~

Neji got what he wanted, and no one could argue that, not even Neji. He got the freedom he not only craved —  _ ached  _ for, even — but the freedom he deserved. There was no doubt about that, and he knew it despite everything within him that wanted to find fault or loopholes or explanations. He even felt a subdued type of joy when the seal was removed and he’d seen the main house for the last time, hopefully in his life.

It was confusing and sweet at first, before the bite.

_ “This is what you want?” _

This… this was what? This was awakened anger that had never been killed like he thought it had, like the past years had  _ proved  _ it was. He’d slept through the night for years in comfort, won a war, had a life with Shikamaru, and had opened himself up to people he now calls friends. He had intentions and hopes, had built his life around them, and that anger was nothing but a silly memory of his genin life.

_ This anger was here all along. The entire fucking time. _

_ “This is what you want?” _

This was anger that was as alive as it ever was, was watching him build, and was waiting till it was ready to be taken from him before it showed itself. It rested, and now it was stronger than ever, and Neji wondered if his hopes and intentions were going to get eaten up in it like his childhood had.

_ Will I stop this? What  _ is  _ this? _

This was nothing except anger and him, locked together in a room with a broken key. Alone, with hands full of revolt, and nothing to rebel against. 

He had freedom, he had the key to his cage, but it was useless now that he was outside of it. The key came at the expense of  _ lesser  _ Hyuuga, it had been dangled in front of him too many times to count, and now he stood outside of the cage with infinite possibility, yet still traces of his life clung to him like plumes of smoke. He might never be able to shake it.

He was blinder now than ever, angrier now more than ever, and it felt like a joke because  _ this  _ is what he fought so hard for. Yes, this was his freedom, his world to make choices in, his life to control without opposition — his life that he never anticipated ruining on his own.

Neji didn’t have a lot of choices — none, at least, that made sense. But, at least, he admitted with nauseated resolve, he had choice. Choice to make mistakes, to hurt others, to fulfil his name to the fullest…

_ No. _

That was what he wanted, after all — choice, regardless of if it was the right one? No one could  _ tell  _ him what he was supposed to do and he’d hate anyone even trying. No, he can act as he wants, and this time the outcome was within his hands. His revolting, inexperienced, shaking hands that knew violence and charity and little more.

_ This isn’t what I want  _ .

“Look at you,” he says out loud. He was back at the training fields and his arm was still aching. His thoughts kept him in deep contemplation, his sweat had already dried and was dry for a long while. He had no idea how long he sat there, he just knew that the sun had moved a lot.

Cradling the bandaged arm as delicately as he could, he stared at his hands and asked them if they were still violent. “You get your freedom, and this is what you do with it?”

No one was there to talk to him, to answer or confront or argue with him, and so he only had himself to speak to. He had the voice of his own reason to answer to, who would reply as honestly as it possibly could because there was no one to witness.

“Your wings are a waste.”

Nothing came of it. Just a dry breeze that stirred in his sweaty hair.

Somehow, saying the words that were all but crystallized within him, felt… nice? Maybe not nice, or pleasant, but part of him relaxed when they were  _ out  _ . Even in the tiniest way, the smallest relief of pressure was still noticeable when absent. Like poison leaving the body after violent wrenches, it felt good.

Good and shaky.

“Your predecessors would be ashamed,” and there was acid on his tongue again, teasing against his palette and threatening to become more if it heards a half-truth.

His hand, the one that ached beneath the bandages, clenched in a fist, tight against his breast. 

“Your father…”

He knew that looking down, watching such a fledgling flop and struggle on the ground, who couldn’t  _ appreciate  _ the chance at life he was given, that his father must be ashamed. He must look down in envy, and then shame, seeing something he’d wanted be thrown about so carelessly.

_ It’s shameful. _

If there was one eye whose acknowledgement he couldn’t evade, it was his father — the only one who would be able to judge him appropriately, and the one who he’d have to wait to hear the judgement.

He could not answer to the questions of his father.

No, this is not what he wanted.

~

He did all he could to show Shikamaru that his intentions are not as harsh as his actions. It was fucked up, he thought, because he knew his actions should be the voice of reason, the definition of his intentions, but none of it is working as it should in his head. He felt one thing, but acted on another, and Shikamaru was understanding, but it was easy to see how tired and sad it mademakes him.

So Neji settled for amends, in counter-actions, like a pendulum made to offset whatever damage he does.

Action, reaction, amends. He was still on leave — he would be on leave for a while — and this was the way his time was occupied while he adjusted to a world without mission, without war, without discussion of the future of Konoha — without the goal of picking his lock free and flying from the golden cage.

He made do with this cycle. It was not so much words that spurred it on, but actionable amends; though his motives were as unclear as his foggy eyes, it was the compromise he made. Yes, he wanted to make Shikamaru know, without any doubt, that his love was unfaltering even if he was the one who was jeopardizing it.

He also found that he could better look Shikamaru in the eye when he was doing  _ something  _ . Something like the repayment of debts he didn’t know he stacked, ones that he was sure, if Shikamaru heard about them, wouldn’t even consider debts… debts paid in dinner, in words spoken in a dark room, and sometimes in a new book or puzzle.

Slower than he was building it, he pulled apart the shell of his contrition. Like funneling water back into the sea, only for it to come back moments later, but he still tried regardless.

He’d taken to his knees more than a few times as well, but it was as selfish as it was selfless, and neither of them could ever complain.

It was all he cared to do, though, but it didn’t completely absolve him of the feeling of knowing his friends were trying to see him. That the world was bigger than his own selfishness and problems, bigger than him and Shikamaru even if the world felt like the head of a needle; others existed, whether or not he was ready to meet them and realize that he affected them as much as they affected him. 

His absence excuses were expiring, veering out of the umbrella of the expected ostentatious Hyuuga attitude. He’d confirmed as much from Shikamaru, and Ino when she stopped by with baked goods, that confirmed that his friends were worried.

“Chouji and I were wondering where you were!” Ino had said, at their door, handing over tupperware full of cookies and sliced cake. “We had a drink night, Hinata and Kiba and even Shino came! You should join us next Friday.”

“Naruto keeps bugging me about the whole house party thing,” Shikamaru had said later that day when he came home. “He’s too excited, I might just cancel the damn thing myself.”

There was a flock circling him, just out of reach. They wouldn’t stay that way and he’d never ask them to, but he wanted them to. They were worried, and he especially hated that his answer to the inevitable question was  _ I’m just not myself right now. _

Through inaction alone, he was causing worry — he couldn’t win, could he? 

He wanted to do  _ something  _ to put their minds to rest. Maybe he would see them, or send a message, or greet them in the street should their paths cross. Maybe he’d go out for drinks after all.

But he knew better than to think he was capable of fixing anything, so he did nothing.

~

Neji sat in meditation, listening to the sounds of the small room that came to be his own and sighing once he realized, again, that he could not focus. He stilled his breath, held it, and tried to sink into that deep, dark place that so easily eluded attempts to reach it.

His sweater made sounds against where it rubbed up on his sides between his elbows, the heater in the other room rumbled to life, and if he listened he might have been able to hear the sound of water running in the downstairs sink. Autumn was thriving outside, rain gently pattering on the shingles like delicate dancers, and it was as distracting as the rest of it.

This was not the first time he wasn’t able to  _ tap  _ in — he even gave himself the benefit of knowing that, knowing that there would always be times when certain things were out of reach despite his best effort. He wished that he didn’t pay such scrutinizing attention to the color swirls behind his eyes when they were shut, that when shapes took form in his mind against the backdrop of his eyelids, he didn’t assign them meaning.

He wished, but it wasn’t in the stars tonight.

He rubbed his fingers against his palms, resisting clenching them, frustration butting up against his nerves and reminding him very much of the body that was never comfortable, that refused to drift away in meditation. The feeling of his sweater, the stray hair near his ear that scratched at him when he breathed deep, the idle ache of his left arm that laid in his other hand over praying knees: they were all discomforts that kept him buried in his mind when he wished to be anywhere but.

He wanted to stop the unending narrative of his thoughts that both blamed himself for Senji’s injury and vindicated himself of responsibility because  _ of course he couldn’t be on high alert all the time  _ . Of course something could go wrong. Of course an ANBU got injured.

_ We’re ANBU, we get hurt. _

There were the other narratives he wanted to rid himself of, too, like those that came after looking at Shikamaru and knowing it was his fault that he was restless and tired. Narratives that explained how deeply he was affecting the other because  _ that’s what Hyuuga do. _

Narratives like  _ look at him  _ .

Narratives like  _ look at you  _ . 

Neji reset his breathing again and stopped counting how many times he’d done so because that, too, was just a number that got caught up in his muddle of thoughts. Despite his best attempts, all of the practice of the years and the methods he’d learned to reset himself, his breath came fast and heavy regardless.

_ Calm down. _

He’d been stuck in pseudo-meditation for an hour — the sliding of the door behind him shouldn’t have raised the hairs on his arms or struck the match of anger in his belly like it did. What did it matter, he couldn’t focus on that distant point of nothingness anyway? What was being interrupted?

_ Nothing. _

His eyes opened to the soft light of the room, focusing on the rapidly diminishing candle on the corner table.

_ Calm. _

Shikamaru stepped barefoot into the room, softly padding his way to sit beside Neji. His weight shifted the mat beneath them, small but noticeable enough. Neji felt his teeth sharpen.

_ What is wrong with you? _

He tried to snuff it out, that inner fire, but indignation took on its own life within him, and all he could do is wrap his hands around it and hope it was smothered. Nothing about being  _ mad  _ with Shikamaru felt proper — it felt foreign, like poison or drowning or, worse of all, like family.

His stomach lurched, but he stilled himself regardless— he’d never felt more vile or impure, not when his thoughts circled round to his family. How could he even consider the comparison of the two? Of Shikamaru and his never ending endurance, and the clan that treated him like vermin?

Shikamaru nudged his arm, and Neji didn’t know whether or not to satiate the anger of being witnessed like this or the mortification of ever comparing Shikamaru to  _ them  _ . Neither emotion won out when he tensed against the gentle prod, injury winning out against both contenders.

“Sss.” He couldn’t help it, tried to stop, but it just came out a hiss.

“Let me see,” Shikamaru probed, and his voice filled the space so loudly, so devastatingly fully, that Neji could no longer hold on to the thread that tethered him to the nothingness he wished could claim him.

Shikamaru tugged gently at his hand, avoiding the tender spots of his forearm and only moving it to rest across his own leg. Even in this, even when he spoke to a silent room and received no answer, he was careful. Intentional and slow and tender.

Shikamaru demanded nothing, and Neji couldn’t look in his direction in fear of demanding  _ too  _ much. He’d already demanded and took and stole and he felt like a pillager; he felt like a pillager in the night, on those shaky occasions of awaking in cold sweats; he felt like a pillager taking from the food that was so caringly crafted for him on early mornings; he felt like a pillager when Shikamaru met his eyes after dropping his messenger bag and the smell of tobacco was so strong, it made him nauseous.

He pillaged as Shikamaru gazed at his arms, and a discreet use of Byakugan showed him the medical supplies that were sitting beside him. It showed him the downturn of Shikamaru’s lips not like disapproval but in a feeling that looked like  _ why do you do this  _ , and it showed him Shikamaru shifting his gaze to his direction, like he somehow knew Neji was watching.

Neji shut his eyes, the strain of Byakugan fading as he did so, and let his hair fall forward in a silken curtain. In the dim light it felt like enough, like his own little cave.

Shikamaru pushed up the black fabric of Neji’s sweater till it bunched against the crook of his elbow. He felt Shikamaru’s steadiness through the fingers still lying across his palm, knew it was practiced, delicate patience.

“Remind me not to spar with you again next time I feel cocky,” Shikamaru chuckled, and it didn’t sound forced. It felt true, like maybe he admired the dedication as much as he was sad at the state of his body. Balance, the good with the bad and no line to divide the two. 

“Not like I’d actually try, but don’t get me wrong — I might think about it. At the end of the day, though, it would be too troublesome. Plus,” he added with a chuckle, “I’d like to keep my dignity,” 

The sticky sound of the bandage as it detached from itself was louder than Shikamaru’s words, adhesive abrasive like sandpaper to the unease that hung in the air. He unwound it painfully slowly, like he knew what he was doing to Neji.

Neji opens his eyes to a slit. “I’d never do this to you.”

“I know you wouldn’t.”

Neji redacts his last sentiment — Shikamaru  _ was  _ just as capable as his clan in one sense, the one that was able to sand him down to nothing but raw nerves. Shikamaru didn’t know he was doing it, and he didn’t take him in all his exposed, crude nudity with harm in mind. He had those raw nerves in his hand like soft clay, and never entertained the idea of prodding at what he saw.

It was dangerous — Neji knew he was rough for wear, unwell in ways he wanted not to speak of, yet it was Shikamaru who could get hurt.

Neji felt like teeth, like glass, like rusty nails — he’d learned that this was the part of him he hated, because he could be stepped on but it would be others who would get hurt.

No, he didn’t mean to compare Shikamaru to the family that did  _ this,  _ whatever this was — but he could compare himself to them as many hours and minutes and seconds as there were in a day, and he would more than likely be right.

He’d be  _ right  _ .

Shikamaru set the bandage aside after a few moments of careful unwrapping, and Neji spared a glance down at his arm. Peeking through the cover of his dark hair and —

_ Huh  _ ,  _ that’s worse than I thought. _

His limp arm sat in pale contrast against the tan of Shikamaru’s thighs and black shorts. The bandages were too tight where he’d tied them earlier, too constrictive, leaving behind strong lines from their pressure. 

Neji could almost sense the change in tone as Shikamaru dragged his gaze over his arm. The only thing he found was bruising, nothing more, yet that didn’t really make it better. Intense dark spots littered his pale skin like stars, all of them lined with deep purple, and fading out to a light blue on the outer reaches like a sickly halo.

“It’s… internal, it’s not physical,” Neji supplied, knowing the medical tools Shikamaru brought were useless against chakra injuries.

“This looks rough, Neji.”

_ Don’t look at me like that. _

“Obviously.”

Neji felt like teeth — just canines, just incisors.

Shikamaru exhaled sharply through his nose, thighs tensing under Neji’s arm. But he said nothing, did nothing, just sat in strained patience and Neji wished he’d lash out too. 

Wished he’d bite back, harder and sharper and more violently than he was even capable of.

It didn’t happen, not even when the seconds turned into a minute and their breathing synchronized.

Finally, when Neji felt like he couldn’t  _ take  _ the composure that wrapped around Shikamaru, Shikamaru tended to him. With slowness and deliberation, the type he would expect.

Shikamaru took his left palm and pressed down on Neji’s upturned hand, forcing it to flatten against his own. His right hand pressed two fingers against the soft pulse point of his wrist — lead filled Neji’s stomach when his heart rate picked up. It thumped against his chest, and he knew Shikamaru could feel it.

After a second, he traced his fingers down the path of his veins, just like the medical field books taught. An inch and a half down — the first major chakra point in the extremities chakra network. It was the easiest spot to feed chakra into, without backlash, without conflict to the rest of the body or impeding the flow from the solar plexus.

There, below his pulse, Shikamaru waited, and Neji knew his eyes were closed in concentration, before he started channeling chakra into his arm. It was a slow, warm build up — gradual, maybe slower than was necessary, but that just makes it less obtrusive. Less noticeably hot, less painful.

Neji swallowed and felt the teeth in him again, and he wanted nothing more than them to disappear — why did they do  _ this  _ ?

But, maybe, they’re there because he didn’t  _ get  _ to have this. Maybe that was the point — maybe it was not a reaction because this treatment, the type he gets to enjoy if he lets himself, was okay, but the fact that it was given to  _ him  _ was like a cruel joke. He’d done little to deserve it, right? 

He was violent, in his core — that must be it. Latent, dormant violence grew silently in him, and now that it was awakening, it was trying to live in him like a new Hyuuga home — it was unforgivable and the only way to spare Shikamaru was to —

Shikamaru grips his hand, pulling Neji from his train of thought before it crashed — Neji didn’t know he was shaking until he did that, and then it makes so much more sense because, no, of course not —

“Hey.”

_ You’re so tender. _

“Slow down, breathe with me.”

He didn’t get to have  _ this  _ . The new world was gentler and that meant it was not meant for him.

“Breathe with me,” and when Shikamaru said it, he made the effort to inhale loudly in example.

_ You’re too tender. _

Shikamaru squeezed again, and the stream of chakra increased. “Sorry, this part will sting. I know you know that, but still, as a warning...”

It couldn’t be helped, and it stung more now that chakra was being pushed further out into his system — sticking like little needles, like paper cuts from within, but Neji felt a bit better at the intrusion. His heart still battered the insides of his ribs, but his breathing slowed a little. 

_ This isn’t your job. _

Then, a second later,  _ This shouldn’t have to be your job. _

Shikamaru slowed down after another minute — he was taking his time, being methodical to a fault... he’d always take his time if he could, even if it made Neji sweat. The heat at the furthest reaches of his arm, nearing the curl of his biceps, began receding from the outer edges until fading away all together. 

Finally, his palms relaxed on Neji. “I’m no medic, but I  _ think  _ this will work well enough. I know you’ve had chakra injuries healed before, but take it easy on them till the bruising fades, okay?”

Neji doesn’t say anything; it’s crucial that he doesn’t say anything.

Shikamaru tries again, into the dead air. “ _ Okay?  _ ”

Neji pulled his arm back, tugging his sleeve down in sharp movements, but he didn’t feel any less exposed. He just felt on display. “You don’t have to  _ fix  _ everything.”

“Come on, I can’t have you looking like an ANBU punching bag even when you’re not active.”

And because he can’t help himself, “You don’t have to worry about that. In fact, you don’t have to do anything.”

“You think I won’t do anything?” He sounded more calm than he should. Shikamaru  _ should  _ be mad, should speak harsher, should  _ want  _ to bite back. He didn’t, he just kept his tone still and his voice calm. “What do you think I  _ would  _ do? That I’ll sit back and ignore —”

“ _ Yes  _ .”

“Not to ruin your idea of how this works, because I know you have a pretty messed up concept of what’s supposed to be happening right now, but that’s not going to happen.”

Neji made to stand, to abandon the meditation that failed him, but a hand settled over his left shoulder to stop him — not enough weight to physically do it, but enough for Neji to look over his shoulder in irritation. To meet Shikamaru’s gaze for the first time that evening.

He wore an odd mixture of hurt and serious focus, under the weary but fully alert eyes that looked a blink away from falling asleep. His dark circles were half moons, his brow knit, and his eyes were unblinking in their resolve to hold his gaze.

He waited.

Finally, “You’re  _ pushing  _ me and I don’t care for it.”

“You’re pushing back, Neji.”

“You should understand something, Shikamaru,” and he hadn’t heard that tone come out of his voice since the chunin exams, it caught them both off guard. “I’d expect you to know it, to  _ read  _ it from the situation without me having to feed it to you, but I don’t  _ want  _ you to interfere. I don’t need you to interfere.”

It was the wrong choice of words. It was all wrong. But it fell from his lips like his food often does, overflowing like the kettle set to boil, and now he couldn’t reel it in, no matter how much he wanted to.

Shikamaru didn’t do anything, just stared at him with eyes that were a little too wide, pupils too small. It set off a new type of fireworks in his nerves, the way his words echoed in his thoughts. 

Somewhere between the words leaving his mouth and now, Neji’s gaze shifted down to the collar of Shikamaru’s clavicle, and all he can do is  _ avoid  _ .

He was shaking again, and when Shikamaru moved his hand up his shoulder and below his waterfall hair to grab his neck, he couldn’t bear it any more. Shikamaru caressed him with long, deft fingers, rubbed a soft half circle behind his ear like he hadn’t been a special type of menace.

He forced him to look at him, and maybe Shikamaru wasn’t  _ all  _ good, not if he forced him to look at him and see the hurt that was there. Plain and unrefined and a little underwhelming, but that made it worse somehow — how plain the sadness in Shikamaru’s eyes was, how it could have just been sleepiness he could blink away but wasn’t. He knew better.

He just… held him there in the lowlight, like a vice that could be broken if Neji  _ really  _ wanted to break it.

Somehow, between all the nights they’d spent together, and the ways they’d spilled their guts to over pillows and injury, this was the most intimate thing they’d ever done… this is the most known he’ll ever be.

“Guess you’re not gonna like how much I’m going to interfere, then,” Shikamaru said before standing up, grabbing the unused medical tools and the old bandage from the floor. They clattered together in the towel that he folds around them, making too much noise for such a tiny space.

“Too bad,” he added before leaving, quietly sliding the paper door behind him.

~

Neji didn’t say anything to Shikamaru when he returned to bed. He didn’t apologize. He’s said  _ I’m sorry  _ too much lately, and it wouldn’t do much right now besides stave off remorse through attrition alone. Who knows, he might open his mouth to say something sweet or soothing or worthy and acid would come out in its place.

He did what was smart and didn’t say anything. He let the sound of rain fill the space that he so inadequately fit into, like a little melody being played on the window.

He still felt on display when he walked through the darkness to the bed even though Shikamaru’s back was to him; felt raw and hot and more apologetic than he knew what to do with, sinking into the sheets only to find that they wouldn’t make him feel any warmer. The air was cold and the sheets were cold and the feeling in his chest left him feeling just as icy.

He sought out the warmth of the only other body and when he was finally behind him, he rested his hand on his hip and hoped it was enough of a greeting. He rubbed a circle into the warmth there, like Shikamaru does, hoping it came off the way he intended.

_ Please. _

He moved his hand down his abdomen, and kissed the spots of Shikamaru’s neck that weren’t under his undone ponytail. The kisses, wet and earnest and too fast, were the only sounds between the two — hunger and apology leaking into each other while thunder rumbled outside.

His hand crossed over his soft navel after a few moments, when Shikamaru didn’t say or do anything. His finger ghosted through the patch of hair just above the band of his underwear, inching down —

Shikamaru grabbed his wrist, pushing it back to lie firmly on his hip — not in complete rejection, just complete decisiveness. Neji’s hands could still be on him, still rest on him, just not like  _ that  _ .

“Not tonight,” Shikamaru said, quiet but no less awake or alert. His hand was still on top of Neji’s, relaxed but firmly  _ there.  _ “It doesn’t work like that.”

Neji nodded against his back — who is he to argue? “I know.”

“Getting me off isn’t an apology, you know.”

He does know.

“Goodnight, Neji.” Nothing but the sound of the quiet and the gentle tapping of rain answered. He squeezed their hands together, against his hip. “Say it back.”

Neji squeezed his hip and pulled himself flat against his warmth. “Goodnight, Shikamaru.”

~

It was the fifth day of returning to training in the fields, against advice and reason not to. The sun rested high above him in the midday, and it was the best time to train because Shikamaru wasn’t home and wouldn’t miss him.

This was the only thing he could do with himself that quieted his thoughts and focused his attention. Not having duties, not having work to attend to, was as boring as it was repetitive — what was supposed to happen? Was he expected to idle at home like a housewife, doing the laundry and making food and keeping it clean, only to do it again the next day?

He’d already cleaned, anyway, and had done the laundry, and shopped — with hours left to fill. He almost wished for high tensions, for something to happen that would require reinstating him, for  _ something  _ . Instead, he settled for training, and the strict rule that he would not over do it. He’d limit his chakra, wouldn’t take more than two hours, would rest and heal...

He wasn’t using his Byakugan on his way toward the farthest field, otherwise he would have known, by a mile out, that he wasn’t alone. He looked into the field from the outer ring of trees, and the person waiting for him seemed to be anticipating his arrival as she turned to face him.

“Neji!”

Neji looked at Tenten through the autumn foliage as it fell around them in a gust of wind, mild surprise widening his eyes. She was grinning at him, hand up in a high wave as he broke through the treeline.

“Thought I might find you here,” she said with the air of confidence one had when they knew they were right. Had she gone so far out of her way that she looked for him, and ended up here of all the likely places?

“You did?”

She chuckled, meeting him in the middle. She was in uniform save for the flak jacket, and the backpack over her shoulder clinked like metal on metal when she moved. “Well, I didn’t know the time you would be here necessarily, so not  _ exactly  _ ... But it’s a nice surprise, don’t you think? Plus,” She grinned, putting hands on her hips. “I was right!”

Neji smiled, and a small part of him felt guilty that it was by mistake that he would end up seeing her. “I’m surprised to see you here… can I ask how?”

“Ehhh, blind luck. I came out here to test a new weapon series made of a different alloy,” and she tugged on the black rope strap over her right shoulder, rattling the contents of the bag. “I could tell you’ve been training, so I hung out for a bit.” She looked over her shoulder, referencing the tell-tale marks of a rotation, the indent in the dust and the circular damage to the surrounding, dying grass. “Reminds me of old times. Still training way too hard, huh?”

Neji’s eyes trained on the center of the field and all the damage he caused. “Perhaps. I’ve had free time, and I haven’t been keeping up with training like I should.”

“Oh? Is Shikamaru here?”

“No, he’s with Naruto. He has more work than he can handle.”

“Oh, so, you’re training alone I see? Damn, I hate training alone…” She eyed him sideways, pursing her lips ever so slightly. “If only there were someone of equal skill and can stand to be around your moody ass that would offer to help…”

Neji found himself smiling. “No, I’m not going to train with you.”

She sighed, fake put-out but clearly anticipating his answer, if the upturn of her tone meant anything. “Well shit. I guess the rumors were true, being ANBU really does give you a god complex, doesn’t it? Too good for lowly Jonin.” 

He knew it was a joke, knew it was meant to be teasing when she knocked his arm with a fist and brought him in for a hug. His heart clenched around the words, and he chuckled into her shoulder despite it.

_ Maybe you’re right. _

“I missed you!” She said, the hug lasting longer than he would have ever accepted in the past. He didn’t hate it, and he squeezed her back. “So much, Neji.”

“I — me too.”

“And I have to be honest with you…” She pulled back, her tone betrayed her words. They were supposed to be serious, Neji was certain. She hummed, looking him up and down. Her eyes zoned in on the clear bandages under his clothed arm, then traced back up to meet his gaze. “You look like shit,” she ended with a laugh.

Neji couldn’t be mad. Her bluntness was the best part of her, so he laughed, stilted, and adjusted his feet uncomfortably. “Thanks... I’m sure you’re right.”

“I mean, no offense, but maybe me coming out was a blessing,” and she grabbed his cheek, thumb underlining his eyes and smiling. She pulled her hand back, eyes widening just a bit, an idea flashing behind them.“Ditch your training for an hour.”

He looked at her expectantly, eyebrows rising. “I don’t know —”

“No, no, nope! Not today Neji! I haven’t seen you in months, and I just happen to have a craving for soba.”

That’s the good thing about Tenten, she could press, without pressing buttons. Maybe it was the pureness of her affection and how easily it slipped out, maybe it was the familiarity of knowing her more than half his life, but it made the apprehension in his bones ebb from the forefront in his mind.

It remained a distant tide, visible if he looked, but far enough out for him to comfortably follow her as she led them back into town.

~

“You’re getting soft, Neji! Admit it.”

“I am  _ not  _ getting soft,” he said, setting aside the bag of plant food and setting it behind him, just out of sight. He’d bought it on their way from grabbing takeout, saw it in the small storefront stall and was reminded of the huge inconvenience that took up space in their kitchen that was starting to wilt.

Tenten said it was  _ cute  _ . “I didn’t peg you for being a plant person.”

“I’m  _ not  _ .”

The grass of the hillside was soft and vibrant green, and before them sat all the food that Tenten insisted on buying. To his left was the edge of the hill, a crumbling, mossy climb that was lined with a stone path. It overlooked main street from the cover of spindly trees, facing the mountainside and the six faces carved into it.

“You think soft’s bad? Well, I mean, of course  _ you  _ do...”

“Just because I have plants doesn’t make me  _ soft  _ . What type of measurement is that? By what criteria?”

Tenten gazed at him from her side of the take out containers, arms crossed with a smug smile crossing her lips. Every defensive response he gave, regardless of being true or not, was not going to change her mind or the smirk that touched her eyes. If anything, she’d think she was right.

“The criteria is that you’re soft and that I like that.”

Neji looked off to the main street, to the spots of people weaving in and out of the visible patchwork like the life blood of Konoha, and couldn’t stop the sour feeling that locked his jaw in a petulantly childish way. Like a poor loser, who argued the validity of something so stupid…

“I’m not going to argue with you. I don’t know why you’re making a big deal, it’s not even my plant — if anyone’s soft, it’s Shikamaru. He’s the one who got it, if you  _ need  _ to know.”

Neji’s feathers were ruffled, and when he spared a quick glance back, Tenten’s proud expression obviously meant that she achieved whatever it was she wanted to achieve. She sighed in some sort of victory bravado, and leaned forward to uncross her arms. “Whatever you say, Neji.  _ Anyways  _ , cheers!” She added, lifting up a noodle from a styrofoam bowl, treating it like a drink on new years.

Neji peeked down to the bowl of cold soba. Golden broth, big noodles topped with onions and mushroom and chili strips — it didn’t elicit any hunger, but it also, to his surprise, didn’t inspire sickness either.

He might as well eat while it was easy like this, so he took a sip of the broth. Relief flooded him when nothing more came from it. “Thank you for the meal, by the way,” he said, both because he meant it and because being  _ soft  _ wasn’t a discussion so much as it was a debate.

“Of course. It’s no biggie,” and then, quieter, “It’s sort of sucked not seeing your pretty face around, by the way… and I don’t say that just because I’ve had to eat our lunches alone.”

Neji exhaled through his nose, but caught himself before he could make anything more of it. He wasn’t caught off guard, he knew when he accepted Tenten’s lunch offer that he’d have to address why he was avoiding people. As expected, here it was — a discussion that focused on him, when he wanted nothing to do with any attention. 

It was the same feeling as the trials, the weeks leading up to it, the skepticism in the air, the chattering: being on display, either out of amusement or out of care, the feeling was still the same bitter medicine. 

He didn’t like the difficulty of such a discussion when it was something that was so small. How was it this heavy? He didn’t understand how opposite the two were, yet here they were, balanced in truth and unable to be nudged either way. 

Neji took another bite. “I didn’t intend for that to happen, I’ve been busy and so has Shikamaru…”

“I know, I know — doesn’t make me miss this any less. But, it’s okay,” she said before slurping up a noodle. “I’m not tryna make you feel bad, I know there’s a lot happening right now and I’ve had my own mound of problems to deal with. You have  _ no  _ idea how much is changing,” she sighed, slumping her shoulders more for dramatic effect than anything. But her exhaustion was real, evident in her eyes, in the muted tone she took.

Neji nodded. “The exams, right? Shikamaru somewhat informed me, but I’m not up to date.”

“Yeah, well… it’s not anything that is fully declared, we’ve just been sent a lot of cease and desist notices on a whole bunch of operations. They told us there’s going to be an announcement soon, so there’s not really any point in fulfilling the original agenda. It’s probably for the better, but you  _ know  _ I’ve done work that’s about to be fully useless when the announcement rolls through... I might be a little bitter.”

He should know more about this. He should know about what was happening in Konoha, about the changes occurring in the world that shaped him. He  _ should  _ be aware of the new world — it was that which freed him, right? Shouldn’t he be there to see it be shaped?

“It’s a pain in the ass,” she added.

“What were the letters addressing?”

“Oh, just the normal blanket statement: stop training, stop tending to the forest, cease patrols for the wildlife. We’ve also been told to stop writing the paper exam for the upcoming batch of recruits and to halt our proctor exams.”

“Oh, so it’s all very base level without any information about it otherwise.”

“Pretty much. It leaves us with nothing to do for the past week. A lot of us are worried about department defunding and removal but not me. I know it’s something else, I just wish I knew  _ what  _ — man, when Naruto said  _ reform  _ , he meant it, huh?”

Neji nodded.

_ He really did.  _

“I wish I had more information for you.” But then again, he didn’t  _ really  _ want to know more, and now had nothing to offer. He took another sip of broth. “I know there are changes for our government programs like the exams, as well as civil programs… I didn’t know the extent… is it possible it's a new curriculum?”

Tenten shrugged. “Beats me. It could be a bunch of things judging by the secrecy surrounding it. Ask your boy, and maybe, if you feel like it, you can leak some of it back to your girl,” she added with a wink.

Neji had to smile — he didn’t realize he truly missed  _ this  _ as much as she did. It was enough to balance him out. “I can’t promise anything.”

“You don’t have to, just buy me lunch next time. And, before you try to feed me some bullshit about being too busy, I want you to know that there  _ will  _ be a next time.”

Neji knew better than to argue, and was pleasantly amused that there was more truth to that statement than she knew. “Well… actually, there is something I was going to ask, so it was good fortune for us to run into each other after all. Shikamaru and I are having a housewarming if you would like to attend.”

Her eyes went wide and excited, right before dropping her spoon and inhaling. “Neji! Of course! What time? When? Do I bring anything? I have gifts, I know they’re redundant when it comes to you two, but you  _ have  _ to have a few blades in the house regardless.”

A chuckle caught in his throat. “We’ve yet to set the date, however, you can bring anything you want — I expected weapons, and I’m sure Shikamaru does too.”

“Already on it! When Lee and Gai hear, I know you’re going to have a handful! Don’t worry though, I’ll keep them down to a sizzle instead of their normal boil.”

Neji held his breath, but he made sure not to show it. Tenten was as in tune with him and his expressions as Shikamaru was, and he had to be twice as guarded if he didn’t want her to see the discomfort stirring in him.

She  _ meant  _ well, after all.

“Tenten, I have a favor to ask,” he tried, hoping this would end in a way that didn’t evoke any more conversation. He wanted an answer; he wanted the favor to be accepted on merit and merit alone.

Through a toothy grin, picking up her spoon, “Of course! What’s up?”

“I need you not to tell Gai.”

Her expression dipped — plunging, like a diver into an ice lake. Her shoulders relaxed, and she reflected the same confusion he’d expect from such a request. “How can you not invite Gai? He’d be crushed.”

He looked off into the distance, into the reflection of the windows of the Hokage’s office. “It’s not a personal reason, I just… maybe when he’s not busy with Kakashi, it’s too late notice as it is, and I’d hate to inconvenience him.”

“It wouldn’t be an inconvenience, Neji — you know that! Never in his life have we put him out, and even when we did… you know how he feels.”

_ It’s exactly the point  _ . 

He nodded, leaning back onto two hands into the grass. What did he think, that he could somehow make it through the words  _ don’t tell Gai  _ and not address the  _ why  _ ? He’d chosen the wrong person to have this conversation with — Tenten would never let him get away with half-truths.

“He —”

“You know Gai wants to see you, right?”

“No, I didn’t…”

“Don’t try to bullshit me, Neji. You  _ know  _ I know better. And Gai knows better, too.”

The tension growing in him was mounting, unreasonable and all too aware of itself — it was all one sided, a current of energy that affected him, and him alone. The spark of anger that lives in him like a pilot to a boiler was alive, and well, and fed so immediately that all he wanted to do was let it boil. 

Of course he  _ knew  _ . Of course Gai  _ saw  _ . Gai was one of the few people who truly did see, and it was a blessing as much as it was a curse.

Eyes still on the windows, in the distance, he settled his attention there and didn’t even try to curb the overflow. “Well if you know so much, why do you even ask? You would waste my time arguing over who gets an invite when there’s nothing to argue about? This isn’t an event that I wish to have in the first place, and I’ve already  _ made  _ my decision. It’s final, and it’s not a request, it’s a—”

“ _ Neji  _ .”

She was so loud, forceful from the indent in her eyebrows and the focusing of her eyes. She leaned forward on two elbows, the perfect image of strength that spoke to her immovability. Her gaze was potent, eyes as sharp as the very weapons she always kept in top form, waiting for him to blink.

“If you talk to me like that, I can leave,” she said, voice strung taut with dare and conflict. Neji fought alongside her long enough to feel embarrassed at trying to pick at a pointless conflict — she could never be steamrolled.

_ How dare you  _ ?

“I didn’t mean to say that.”

She kept looking, a cat to a mouse backed against a corner, waiting for it to stop squirming.

Neji looked to her, blinking first before breaking the contact. “I’m sorry.”

She waited a beat before relaxing back into the grass. She took a drink of her green tea, sipping it slowly and thoughtfully. “I meant what I said earlier, by the way. You really do look like shit.”

“I understood what you meant.”

She hummed. She never pressed too hard, just enough.

He caught her eyes, and she waited on his next words. “I’m messing up a lot of things.”

He leaned forward again, shoulders rolled in a form he knew was bad for posture but couldn’t find the desire to straighten. He stared into his food, suddenly too tense and too aware of all the nerve endings in his body. The stiffness in his neck, the tightness in his back, the sharpness of his joints...

His lungs, how they filled with decaying air that felt like the suna. He exhaled a desert and hoped it would, eventually, empty. “I’m ruining everything I have. All of it.”

“Neji…”

“And that’s why I can’t see Gai. Since you have to know.”

Maybe Tenten was right, maybe he was going soft. He could feel it in his expression, how it scrunched up in anticipation, waiting for some ill-conceived notion to come tumbling from his lips; waiting for it to be printed in bold across his features, permanently etched into him. He could only stare into the golden broth, comforted in small mercies of take out food. “I can’t see him. I don’t know if I can face him.”

_ There. _

“Neji… Gai could never hold anything against you.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

_ But I can’t risk it  _ .

“What would he hold against you?”

“Tenten, I know you’re trying to help — I’m sorry, I was harsh with you, and I won’t let it happen again, but this… I can’t talk about this.”

“But Neji — Gai  _ loves  _ you!”

“It’s not about  _ love  _ . It’s not about holding something against me. It’s… gods, it’s like with Shikamaru…” It snapped in him, the tension that strung him together like a useless puppet. He didn’t act on it, but it was so close to the surface that he could feel it well up in his hands, clutching around his arm and the dull bruises that were concealed underneath. He looked her in the eye and dug his fingers into the wrappings. “I’m failing him. I’m  _ failing  _ him. I’ll...”

He doesn’t need to say it for her to hear it.

She shot him another look, disgustingly forgiving. “Neji, you’re not going to fail him. Frankly, I don’t even think that’s possible. Don’t you think you’re underestimating him?”

“I don’t know the answer to that.”

“I think you are, and  _ that  _ will hurt him. Invite him, it’s just one evening.”

“I don’t know.”

“The alternative is he hears he wasn’t invited, and he’s crushed… does that sound better?”

“You’re relentless.”

“I consider that a compliment. Can’t be a woman in the shinobi world if you’re not, you know.”

He didn’t have any words for her just yet. They let the sound of the breeze take over, punctuated by distant sounds of the streets as more people entered the post-work flow of the late afternoon.

She had a point that couldn’t be denied. 

_ You would rather selfishly avoid him, wouldn’t you? _

“You’re… right.”

“I usually am!” She says, laugh laced with enough humbleness that it couldn’t be misunderstood. The warmth in her smile spoke for her, too, and the annoying, nagging feeling of anger within his bones thawed. 

“I’ve learned not to doubt you…”

“Good. Just think about it, and don’t make me or Lee lie for you because we won't.”

Neji scoffed. “You’ve already won, you can relax. I’ll… probably invite him, then, if it means that much to you. I — wait, you’d really not lie for me?”

“You’re dumb. Invite him.”

“ _ Fine  _ .”

And then a second later, like he couldn’t see the way she was so obviously waiting to ask a question. “You said something about Shikamaru, right…?”

Neji stirs his udon. “I worry him.”

_ I hurt him. _

“And…?”

“ _ And  _ what? I can’t explain it all, and I haven’t even explained it all to  _ him  _ —”

Tenten sighed so loudly, so exaggeratingly, it took Neji off guard and cut him off mid sentence. Her head tipped back, as if in deep thought, or maybe like something he said would take a  _ while  _ to chew on. “You’re so fucking dumb, I swear on every god.”

“Can you stop insulting me for once?”

“No, I don’t think I will. I’ll give you advice though, since you need it so badly.”

He waited, that cornered feeling creeping up again as she stared at him. She was one of the few people not put off by his eyes, and she never shied away from them.

Finally, “ _ Talk  _ . To him.”

Neji blinked at how anticlimactic it all was. He didn’t expect the cure, but maybe something… more useful? “Do you care to elaborate?”

She rolled her eyes. “ _ No  _ . I can’t coach you on the basics of communications. Just do it. That’s all I got for you, but I’m  _ right  _ .”

He couldn’t say she was wrong. It wasn’t that she knew enough to truly give him advice, but it still couldn’t be ignored that she was right. He nodded through a soft sigh, releasing his arm from his own grip.

“Like I said, I’ve learned not to doubt you,” he said at last. He could feel the draw to their sails slow, knowing their time was ending. Comfort, discomfort, the wish to both leave but also remain just as confounding as the solace he felt in Tenten’s presence.

He really had softened, he must have — though he didn’t hate it right now, because if he was proud of anything, he was proud of the honesty between them. He reached across to her side of the scattered takeout and put his hand over hers. Loose, light, with a slight squeeze over her gloves and scarred hands.

She looked surprised but not unhappy with him, and took her free hand to lay it atop Neji’s. 

“Thank you,” he said, feeling her pressure around him, feeling emboldened. “Tell Lee and Gai for me, if you can.”

“Any time, dumbass.”

“You can have my food too, my appetite isn’t the best today.”

A glint flashed in her eyes, she raised her eyebrow, but she didn’t say anything else besides, “I got you, Neji.”

He was certain she did.

~

Senji was asleep when he visited, and Neji counted it as a personal favor to him from the universe. He left a potted flower that will bloom soon, as well as a basket of fruits. Senji was in for a long haul, and maybe this was a poor excuse for an apology, but it was a start — maybe snack fruit and sweets would make him feel cared for.

_ Cared for, but not safe. Not protected. _

Neji looked at his sleeping form, the bandages and the head wrappings — he’d seen injuries far worse than this that were survived, he’d even caused them. 

_ His family cares for him. His friends care for him. He doesn’t need you to  _ care.

He avoided looking at the faces in the pictures left on his window, knowing a shinobi’s privacy was just as important as his life, if not greater. Perhaps, also, he could avoid their judgements, as two dimensional as they were.

_ You’re not allowed to have a lapse of judgement, not as ANBU.  _

The sun shone brightly through the open curtains and onto the pristine white linens of the ICU bed — the balloons from friends and family refract, sending shattered red light across the walls and his bruised face.

_ Can I do better? _

He shut the door quietly behind him, dragging his hand away from it quickly in case someone was around to hear his thoughts.

_ There’s no choice. I must do better. _

~

“Are you sure you’re trying? This is a little too easy.”

Neji watched as another fu piece got taken into Shikamaru’s custody. He currently had four of them, one kin, and one keima behind lock and key. The shogi board was starting to look a lot like a massacre, and if Neji wasn’t careful, it would be over in less than ten moves.

Shikamaru had no right to look so smug, either. Neji might not have been losing on purpose, he also wasn’t playing the game they knew he could, and Shikamaru shouldn’t look so proud knowing that. Neji rolled his eyes, tried not to let the look Shikamaru was giving him sink any deeper into his stomach. “Does it look like I’m not trying?”

“Not necessarily… you look a little caught up in your opponent, though,” and spared him a wink with a dumb half smile that both proved his point and made Neji more annoyed than  _ caught up  _ . 

“Wishful thinking,” Neji offered, still not having made his move. He paused to take a drink of his green tea, relishing in the warmth on another rainy day. “I mourn the days when you played with strategy and not with your  _ appearance  _ .”

“It’s not about what I did in the past, it’s about the fact that I could do such a dumb thing right now and it  _ works  _ . When did ya get all soft on me? I mourn the days when you would be tough on me because you wanted to impress me, or something…”

“I never tried to imp—”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. You used to try so hard.”

“Shut up.”

“Anyway, my strategy is winning, by any means necessary.”

“Do you know how insufferable you are when you drink?”

“My one drink? That’s a pretty weird way to blame you getting affected on  _ me  _ .”

“Oh gods, shut up.”

“Start winning if you want me to shut up. Till then,” He shrugged, took a drink of his whisky, and rolled his eyes back at Neji with a grin, all too self satisfied. He shifted, leaned forward on the table, and pressed his cheek into an open palm. “Make your move.”

Neji rolled his eyes, if only to keep Shikamaru’s from connecting with them. “If you let me  _ think  _ instead of running your mouth, then maybe…”

Neji wasn’t mad — his heart was struck, seized in the moment, and no amount of bragging was enough to distract him from that. He was looking at him in admiration, in effusive fondness, and for once it didn’t seem out of place — like he fit into the scenario where Shikamaru could look like  _ that  _ and he could accept it and know it wasn’t misplaced or overgrown. He didn’t feel like a stranger to himself in this moment, and Shikamaru was all the more pleased.

“You look good in a ponytail, in case you were wondering.”

He wasn’t. Neji didn’t look up, didn’t give away anything.

“Kinda makes me wanna mess it up.”

_ This is good  _ .

They weren’t stuck at an impasse, either — Neji didn’t feel like he’d broken anything delicate today, and he hadn’t forced Shikamaru to keep him together. It was all reward enough, from Shikamaru’s poor flirting to him, appreciating it even when not wanting to make it apparent that he was enjoying it just as much as Shikamaru was. Even if he was losing at a stunningly easy game of shogi for the most pandering reason...

It didn’t matter because this type of night hadn’t come in a while, and he almost felt  _ new  _ , like this was the first time Shikamaru ever tried to get a rise out of him and it was  _ working  _ . Like how even if he was still unwell, moments like this still came regardless.

“Trying to appeal to base instinct doesn’t work. Try again.” He moved a piece. Too quick, too undecided — not that it mattered any more, he’d stopped playing to win two moves ago.

“That’s funny since it’s working. It usually does.”

And then there was Shikamaru, who was away from the work he so often brought home with him, and he was smiling. He had the audacity to wink at him, to stare at him, like it they’d been together for weeks and not years. He looked beautiful and for the first time in a while, he looked relaxed _ . _

“Thanks for this,” he said fondly, eyes lulling shut. His free hand laid across his edge of the board, fingers tapping away a tune with no rhythm. He wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t tipsy, he was just warm. The absence of a flak jacket, of duty, looked good on him.

“If you were truly thankful, you’d stop staring…” He placed another piece, trying to apply some half-attempted strategy, but it was lost. He’d claimed a piece, but the cost was too great.

Shikamaru half opened his eyes to the board, moved to the inner flanks of Neji’s dwindling army, and claimed a kin, all while aligning perfectly to place the gyoku in landlock. “And here I thought we’d hit a stalemate.”

He grabbed the gyoku, holding it up between them and idling with it in hand, fidgeting with the piece with his attention to his tablemate. “Checkmate.”

Neji felt flush, and it had everything to do with Shikamaru.

~

They stayed at the restaurant for a little while longer, Neji drinking tea and Shikamaru finishing off a second drink before the night's end. Shikamaru had too much work in the office to go home  _ too  _ late, so by 11 they were already on their way.

Autumn was starting to ebb away into winter, but they’d still have a good month before the real chill would settle in. Even in heavy sweaters, the cool winds that traveled down Konoha streets were enough to send a shiver down his spine.

“You’ve lost your edge,” Neji complained, reeling Shikamaru in by the waist, and closer into his body heat. He still wasn’t drunk, but he was tipsy enough that walking was more of a challenge than it normally was. “I’ve seen you drink far more…”

“Maybe. I haven’t had the time to enjoy alcohol, so maybe I’m just rusty.” He rested his hand lightly across Neji’s shoulders.

The streets were still lined with people, the bar on their right was still in full swing with shinobi and the like over flowing into the street — they spoke too loud, and the music coming from within wasn’t distinguishable between the loud conversation or the bouts of laughter that came as fast as they went.

“Sure,” and he held onto him just a bit tighter. “If that’s what you’d like me to think, then fine.”

“Good. Doesn’t matter too much, though — between the schools and the hospitals and everything else, it’s not the alcohol I miss.”

Neji’s grip tightened, pulling him in more snugly against his side. His heart missed a step, and when he looked over to him, it missed two and felt warm all over again, even with the smell of rain on the horizon and the chill in the air.

_ I missed you too  _ , and then,  _ I’m sorry you missed me at all. _

Neji stopped them, and he knew a Shikamaru that was more sober wouldn’t let him kiss his forehead, not in public, anyway — but what a rare opportunity it was, and he did. He pressed his lips against his forehead, his hand sneaking up from where they’d guided him on his back and onto his neck.

He just held him there, left to stand like that in the middle of the street for too long. No one paid attention, not when everyone else in the street was drunk or in a party or had their own business — the night was just as alive around them as it was within them, so he knew it was okay and that no one would be the wiser. Shikamaru would forgive him, would still be there to distract him in theoretically easy games of shogi.

He dropped the hand that anchored him to the kiss before it too departed, and then kissed his cheek before tucking himself into Shikamaru’s shoulder. He was sober enough to have this conversation, and right now…

It wasn’t the wrong moment for it, right? Tenten  _ was  _ right after all...

“I’m sorry I haven’t been myself,” Neji whispered, lips brushing up against the thick fabric of his black sweater. His throat grew tight, but he ignored it. “I’m sorry.”

They were in a half embrace, tucked into each other lazily but easily and comfortably. Neji’s arm hung on his right shoulder, and when the words sunk in, Shikamaru’s right arm pulled against his waist, like it  _ was  _ okay.

“You’re still yourself.”

“I’d hate for that to be true. I told you I’m… upset — it’s because of  _ me  _ .”

Shikamaru was definitely sober enough for this conversation, not a word fell out of place. “And you think that just because you’re going through something that I’d be upset with you too?”

“When I live up to my clan name, I’d hope you’d be angry at me.”

“You’re… you think that’s what you’re doing? Living up to your clan name?”

“I don’t know what else to call it. I’m not proud of how much I’ve disrupted your life and hurt you and —”

Shikamaru untangled them, removed the anonymity of speaking into clothes and not to eyes and expressions and heart, and kissed him like he needed it more than anything. Like he’d forgotten that there weren’t four walls surrounding them, or how the group of five walking by were wooing at them. He sunk too deep into Neji, put all his weight into it, that he’d be willing to strip right on the street if that’s what Shikamaru wanted.

_ For me, you’re giving too much  _ .

Neji breathed heavy through his nose, the sounds cascading around them like echoes in a tiny cave, and he had almost no will to —

He pushed Shikamaru just enough, sucking in a breath.

“Shikamaru —”

And Shikamaru listened, but the restraint left him with quivering breath —

“Why the fuck aren’t you  _ mad  _ ?!” Neji whispered. “I’m doing nothing but hurting you and —”

“I’m not here to punish you, or prove you right about  _ living up to your name  _ …”

“I  _ am  _ .”

“Remember Asuma?”

—  _ Oh. _

Neji’s heart stilled. Everything stilled, blood freezing in his veins, so fast and deadly that he had to close his eyes. Shikamaru always knew what to say when it counted, it was instinct for him, but that also always came with the understanding that sometimes it would be like a pill with no water. 

Shikamaru went deep into the past for that one, he must have had it sitting on the tip of his tongue for weeks. He must have been waiting for this conversation to happen.

Shikamaru still smelled like whisky, like smoke. “Remember my dad?”

The bar behind them flooded their ears with chatter, with static, but it still felt quiet when Neji didn’t answer. Shikamaru eyed him speculatively with a pensive expression on his tired features, as he waited.

“Neji, I need an answer. Remember?”

He’d had more patience before, but Neji couldn’t fault him for reaching the end of his incredibly long rope. He’d have been eager for conversation, too, but —

_ It’s not the same. _

“Y-yes.”

“Remember how I’d been? I do. I still feel guilty for what I’d said, everything I’d done, all the shit I didn’t do. Hell, I question it to this day if you were even right to stick through it.”

Like he’d had a choice in the matter.

“I’d been a fucking asshole, and I hated that you saw me fall apart like that. You did it  _ twice  _ .”

His eyes snapped open like broken elastic. “That’s not the point, this is different! I didn’t  _ mind  _ , I still —”

“I still love you too.”

It didn’t make sense, it  _ did  _ make sense — Neji believed both and neither, simultaneously and without understanding of how he was supposed to take that information. His stomach tightened, like the green tea was poisoned and just now hit, like it was going to toss him up and leave him shaking —

“I’m not mad at you. I know the trial fucked with you, and you’re dealing with a lot of shit… it’s my personal opinion that you get to feel a little angry about it.” Then a second later. “Not at yourself, just the bastards that I’m personally thrilled to see spend their lives all locked up and with nowhere to go. You  _ should  _ be mad at them.”

Because his eyes were too wet — wet but weathering without overflowing — because Shikamaru made too much sense, and most of all because he couldn’t ruminate on his own thoughts like he’d been doing since the trials, he exhaled sharply. “I hate how understanding you are.”

Shikamaru rolled his eyes, smirked. “Sorry if you don’t like it, but it’s the truth.”

“Don’t...” If he’d known what to say, it was lost in feelings he couldn’t name.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t speak like you know everything.”

_ You don’t have to repay the favor.  _

“I don’t, I just happen to be in love with you.”

_ I’d understand. _

“Now come on,” he kissed Neji’s cheek, and he was pinker than just a moment ago, pink like he realized where they were but did it anyway. “We’re finishing the draft before sending it to the Academy, and I’m about to pass out right here. Can’t have you dragging me back home.”

“Of cou—”

“Ah, look who it is! We ran into some Lovebirds!”

_ Ah  _ .

Of all the poor luck.

It wasn’t  _ bad  _ luck. It wasn’t that he was unwelcomed, or unwanted, or that he was resentful toward the idea of seeing him — but did Gai have to show up at this moment? Shikamaru quickly separated from his cheek, but still remained in his half embrace. 

Gai and Kakashi were dressed so casually, it was clear they’d also been out for a date. They came from the opposite direction, from the residential neighborhoods, against the flow of people going home. Gai waved, eyes wide and so endearingly excited, that Neji almost brought his hand up to his chest at the guilt that clutched his heart.

Kakashi, ever clad in dark grey clothes and his mask, had at least removed his headband and replaced it with a regular hair band. His hair drooped more, with less care to be done up than he’d usually do. He wore the eye of mild surprise at seeing the two, pushing Gai’s chair at a slow pace once he honed in on them.

Neji tensed in Shikamaru’s arms, and that was probably why he was the first to speak. “Gai-sensei, Kakashi-sensei — it’s nice to see you.”

“It’s certainly been awhile,” Kakashi said, lightly laughing as he parked the two of them in front of Neji and Shikamaru at a couple feet distance. “Well, outside of duty, that is. We just happen to be on a leisurely stroll, taking in the sights, watching all the activities that we once enjoyed… you know, before we got old.”

“We are reveling in our youth! Or the youth that has passed, haha! But merriment is merriment and we will enjoy it at any hour of the day or night!”

Shikamaru grinned, but his hand on Neji’s lower back squeezed just a bit as he looked toward Kakashi. “It must be nice, since I know you don’t have missions or obligations tomorrow like some of us.”

“That’s not true, I might stop by for a bit…” Kakashi said politely, but his eyes smiled at the joke. “You know, just for fun, or maybe a catnap. I’ll decide once I get there.”

“You’re very generous, sensei.”

“Indeed he is! You joke, but I know how hard you’re both working! It fills me with pride! He works hard in my absence, even though he doesn’t have to.”

“Only for you, love,” Kakashi said, stepping back just enough to lean forward on the back seat of Gai’s wheelchair. He crossed his arms to rest his head atop them. “And, I guess, Konoha.”

One of the most infamous ninja in the world, the holder of the sixth hokage’s spot, and Naruto’s teacher, gazed at Gai in such a way that Neji never would have imagined, that it made him smile.

This wasn’t something he’d anticipated in his own youth, being able to see those around him get the happiness they’d fought for, that they deserved — and yet, here it was. After hell’s hailstorm and the seemingly never ending tragedy, they were all stopped outside on a pleasant night, mildly drunk and in the company of those who were precious.

And it was like he was reading his thoughts. “For those who are precious! For those who come next! And for our teams, you can’t forget that, rival!”

It was embarrassingly obvious that he’d not yet greeted them when Gai turned his attention to Neji, a mirthful grin plastered to his face in a way no gods could ever undo. It did nothing for the feeling of unease in his stomach, but it reaffirmed the warmth of good spirit that was already in the air.

“Speaking of which, Neji! My boy!”

This was what he couldn’t put off or delay any longer — if not for Gai, then for Shikamaru’s arm around him that felt a lot more like a post, holding him up instead of the other way around.

“It’s good to see you, Gai-sensei. Kakashi-sensei,” he added with the bow of his head, still flustered.

Kakashi’s eye alone turned to him, without having moved a muscle otherwise. He had the habit of being intense without doing anything warranting such intensity, though he’d softened a bit in the years. This, though, wasn’t the case. Friendly as he was, he was just as sharp.

“You look well,” Kakashi said, eyes bending closed in a smile.

“Healthy as a horse, I’m sure! You’ve been so busy, I’ve hardly known whether to bother you or leave you be!”

“He’s annoyed me every day about it,” Kakashi added.

“That is true!”

Here it comes, the inevitable regret, and he can’t stop apologizing — Neji holds his breath. “I’m sorry, I’ve —”

“Apologize for nothing, my boy! But shame for not giving me a hug! I’d normally not have to ask, but,” and he pointed to his blanket covered legs, laughing too boisterous for how late it was. “I’m a bit tied up, as you well know!”

“I don’t know if I should, Shikamaru’s a bit —” 

“I’m not made of paper, Neji,” Shikamaru chuckled, rumbling out against him but already releasing him. “I’ll probably manage not to fall on my face,” he chuckled, patting him on his way out.

_ Fucking bastard. _

“Need a hand?” Kakashi offered, kicking off from his lean and already on his way to Shikamaru. Truth be told, he didn’t need it, he was more than capable of handling a drink, and Neji could only hope they weren’t trying to make him look as avoidant as he was.

This was too ill timed for it not to feel like a setup, even though there was no way for it to be one. The world felt conspiratorial, he knew he looked for explanations where there were none, though it was perhaps, maybe, a good thing, even if it felt like being pried open.

Neji felt like a tide on receding currents, still but awaiting the crashing — whether it be himself, or others, he didn’t know. He took a few steps toward Gai, who’d waited for months without having seen him and still greeted him with the warm smile that he’d always remember from his childhood…

Gai had cried last he’d seen him, and Neji couldn’t tear it from his memory how much he’d been hurting when he was in the audience. He was smiling now, maybe for Neji’s benefit as he leaned in and cautiously wrapped his arms around his mentor — maybe he  _ was  _ just happy to see Neji, outside of the context of dredged up memories and the ruling on actions long since passing, but it all felt like platitudes he didn’t deserve.

He doubted nothing of Gai’s sincerity, but he felt rotten to the core for him knowing  _ anything  _ at all. That it hurt him at all.

He was supposed to be fast about it, to hug and then leave it be, but even if Gai hadn’t held him so, even if it was an odd angle, he hadn’t known how much he wouldn’t want to leave. 

That tide in Neji was close, it was peaking — his heart skipped at the thought of it all coming down now. 

“I love you, kid,” Gai said, because he probably knew it was the only thing he needed right there, like he didn’t care about the tsunami on the horizon.

Neji clenched his jaw, tucked his head deeper into the tacky green sweater Gai wore. He swallowed, throat thick like honey. “I love you too.”

Neji let his arms fall, loosened from their hold around Gai and dragging away over the fabric of his shirt like it was slow motion — in his head, it felt that way, at least, and when he was back to standing, Gai’s hand still holding his, he’d focused on the way his was enveloped. How it was just warmth, his hand encapsulated one that was scarred and worn rough with training that would never go away, no matter how many years distant his shinobi life was.

“We really should get going,” he said too softly, too slowly, to be taken at face value. He’d say something he shouldn’t, otherwise, and even when he made his goodbyes, a dozen other possibilities almost took its place. He opened his mouth, then aborted it when he felt the air in his lungs change. He tried again, “Shikamaru… he has a long day tomorrow, and…”

Gai squeezed harder, brought his other hand around Neji’s slack one. “Of course! You should get your rest as well! I’ll be seeing you soon,” and though it was supposed to be a question, it wasn’t,

Neji pursed his lips in the best smile he could manage — he meant it, it just stung. “You talked to Ten, I see.”

“Indeed! This very morning, in fact. Lee and I are already preparing! That boy, I swear — he’s already got presents… uh, several of them, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I didn’t.”

“I didn’t either,” Kakashi added, and Neji remembered that there was an audience around him. They’d faded into the background, but came back in the form of Kakashi injecting himself into the conversation. Neji was almost thankful.

“Me neither,” Shikamaru added, inserting himself as well, but probably more as a kindness. “I’ll make sure to act surprised, like it makes a difference — I suspect Naruto’s gonna pull the same shit, too.”

Kakashi laughed. “I can’t reveal that, I’m afraid, but you’re onto something there.”

Neji didn’t have anything to add, and after releasing Gai’s hand, and pulling Shikamaru back into a half-hug, he spared a smile. It was little to offer, but it was the best he had and he was okay with that — if they’d asked for more, or had any sort of question, he knew they’d receive neither — 

More platitudes, so maybe everyone understood that and never asked them. He was in the company of seasoned shinobi, they all have their own understandings, after all.

_ What makes you so special? _

Quietly, they all returned to their own company. But before parting ways, Gai took one last hold of Neji’s hand. “Don’t be a stranger, Neji!”

Neji nodded, held onto Gai a bit tighter, and wanted nothing more. Shikamaru hummed in agreement, and when they passed, he was kind enough not to remark on his trembling.

~

Neji jolted, like he’d been shocked again, like lightning spawned in the center of his head and —

_ It’s the same fucking headache  _ . 

It took up residence in his head too many nights, he thought he’d get used to the disgusting feeling. Like there would be a moment when it would happen, and he’d expect it, and it would hurt but not in a way that would  _ hurt  _ any more…It would never be both familiar and comfortable, though, and he didn’t know why he kept trying.

_ It’s all the fucking same — _

He was sitting upright, but he was okay. The sheets weren’t that tangled in an uncomfortable mass, the window was opened a crack so he wasn’t too overheated, and the rain in the air was sharp enough to bring him back to his senses. His breathing still came in torrents, like gusts of wind, but he knew where he was, and if he didn’t —

“Hey.”

— then shikamaru reminded him where everything was, righted his footing so that no disorientation could take it from him. He didn’t even need to try, his voice alone was enough to bring back that equilibrium that was always  _ just  _ out of reach.

“Hey,” Neji said back, shuddering breath catching him in a weird dance with no rhythm, no predictability, just speed and heaviness.

Neji breathed in deep, Shikamaru shuffling to sit up beside him in the near darkness. He released his breath in a slow, steady stream — and Shikamaru was good at reminding him of this too. His hand started at Neji’s elbow, slowly ghosting up and over his rolled shoulders until reaching his back. He was centered, just behind his lungs, taking in the pause like  _ just wait a second. _

Then, when the second passed, he started tapping out a slow beat.

_ Tap, tap, tap. _

Three, two, one, hold.

Release.

“How are we doing?” He said on the third slow repeat.

Neji would have answered  _ poorly.  _ Weeks ago, he would have said  _ well  _ . Right now, he felt safe, and somehow that meant that he was  _ both  _ . His muscle memory subsided enough that he wasn’t shaking as bad as he sometimes would, and his nerves didn’t feel like fire, just a low simmer…

Right now, he would say  _ I’m doing poorly, but I feel safe enough to handle it. _

He didn’t know it happened but he was holding Shikamaru’s thigh, probably too tight and —

_ — fuck _

“I’m sorry,” he released his grip, and he didn’t need Byakugan to know there would be imprints. He couldn’t bring himself to move his hand, so it stayed there, as gentle as possible.

Safe, at home, still flooded with adrenaline and unusable guilt.

“Don’t be.”

“I keep doing this,” he said, screwing his eyes shut, tension mounting behind them. “I keep waking you up —”

“I sleep too much as is,” he leaned in to kiss his shoulder. “I’m okay, trust me.”

Neji swallowed with a dry mouth, with shaky breath, and hesitantly put remorse aside for just a moment. Just enough to catch back up, to slow down, to fall back into rhythm.

_ Tap, tap, tap  _ .

Hold.

Release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i reworked this sooooo many times!! there was so much i wanted to say here, and it took a while to say it, so hopefully i hope it comes off as i intend. this is a trauma piece first and foremost, dealing with his pride and the embarrassment of not knowing what to do once you finally get what you want, but it's also about how family and friends are there as well. they can't fix everything, but they can sit there beside you and hold your hand.
> 
> this is also so indulgent because have ya'll ever wonder what would have been if they'd addressed clan crimes? yeah, me too. imagine if the govern wasn't corrupt and if clans were held to a law.... wild lol
> 
> anyway, thank you so much for reading! this thing is gathering more chapters the more i write it, but i have my end goal in sight and i think that means there will be five chapters by the end of it! a warning for the next chapter, as it will address a small scene during the trials and neji's testimony.
> 
> also, this is not the gai scene i was talking about! that one is coming up soon!
> 
> grammar edit 12.30.2020 by the awesome casey!


	4. Part IV | Honesty's Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> intimacies that hurt, and places of appreciation  
> tw for food related issues/imagery, scenes of panic/anxiety, sex, emotional intensity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “the pain I don’t say / out loud, builds a home / inside me.”  
> — Olivia Gatwood, from Life of the Party

{wherein intimacies are painful}

  
  


_“Are you sure that these actions were not out of love and aspiration for you to do better?”_

Neji had laughed at the man asking the question, the lawyer who had thought that the words _family_ and _love_ were one and the same.

_“Of course you would phrase it like that, wouldn’t you? Perhaps you might try to say it was_ love. _That I’d been hungry and aching and in pain out of love, that I lost my father out of_ love. _However, I’ve known love, and Hiroto and Hiashi were emptied of it. Love lived nowhere within them.”_

~

Of all the memories of the trial, of all the things he had recalled for the courts, Neji remembered the sounds of Gai crying the most. He remembered the heat of Shikamaru’s anger, tangible and rising and indignant. In the glances he stole of those around him, he recalled the cold feeling of Kakashi and Sasuke’s eyes.

Then there was Naruto, helpless but hopeful, waving goodbye, leaving him to the verdict he so strongly desired, so strongly wished for; the verdict he didn’t even believe, that lingered like mists do in spring mornings before finally settling on the ground.

He _also_ acutely remembered not looking at any one on the stand -- the way he couldn’t bear their eyes when he had felt so gross, how he had somehow felt _embarrassed_ that they were there to listen, and hear, and _witness._

He hadn’t known he would feel shame, that it was even possible -- yet speaking of how life had changed in the wake of his third birthday, how it had been before the academy and during his life as a genin, chunin, and jonin…

He had told the stories of how life was before he’d learned how to stop crying, and only then did he know that it was infinitely possible to feel ashamed and sad and angry and disgusted all over again. It all had contorted and compressed into one moment, much like the spiraling pain of the seal itself when used by someone _very_ angry, very vindictive, or very set on instilling life lessons.

If he were to be honest, the trial had done very little but show what already existed. It shook a tree with shallow roots, only for the tree to come falling down. It was where he saw one type of hate bloom into a new type of hate.

It stopped being _this memory is acid, this was never love, I never felt kind hands_ , and transformed into _I’ve become corrosive, I will never be able to give love, my hands will never be capable of kindness._

Honest or not, nothing could fix _that._

~

The monstera plant in the corner of their kitchen was living well. Lush, spreading, growing slowly but steadily in the wake of its poorly tended state before Neji cared for it. And that’s what he did – Neji tended to it every morning, watered it every week, fed it when needed.

Today, all he had to do was tend to a dying leaf. It was browning too much to recover from, and the rest of the plant had started to take on the sick color.

He took a kunai against his thumb to the healthy green part of the stem, and cut it. The dead leaf fell stiffly into his hand with a watery crunch. He looked at it, turning it over in his palm once, before setting aside the kunai.

The kunai lay on the plant’s pedestal, glinting in the early morning light. Behind him was the sound of boiling water on the gas range, filling the small space with the noise of cooking rice.Through a rough night, and less sleep, Neji had been the first between them to wake up, with Shikamaru heavily asleep at his side. He had been buried under blankets and a pillow, and that’s how Neji had left him, moving silently from bed to start breakfast.

Neji thought it was serendipitous that he would be the first to wake. Shikamaru was not the morning person his job forced him to be, and the desire for progress and change drove him to the very extent of his stamina –

The projects he directed from the office of the Hokage were rewarding, but the weight was a stress Neji saw everywhere in him. Every morning, every night, every frequent smoke break.

High reward, high cost, and Neji couldn’t ignore the way it weathered him down any more.

And it was odd, as he stood there with the piece of stem, the scent of broth and rice floating through the chill air, coffee brewing and rumbling quietly – the feeling of home, of warmth, came at the oddest times. He hadn’t realized it, but something about the clipping in hand made brought it to his attention...

_How long has it been?_

He hadn’t felt this sensation wash over him in too long – maybe the trials had awoken something deep, but he’d stood in these four walls when there was nothing in them, feeling like home, warmth, Shikamaru and nothing more. Even between worries of what he might make this home become, it was warm.

Warm, the way Shikamaru had looked around when deciding to make this their home. He was awake, eyes alive to the idea of what they were going to share and shape.

Warm, even with the ambient cold of the floor against his socks as he recalled a memory of the newness of a place not yet their own, as it sunk into his bones and made him almost comfortable.

Warm, in how he thought, back when the place was empty, how much he wanted to wake up in Shikamaru’s shared space. He hadn’t had that before Yoshino and Shikaku had accepted him into their lives. But that adolescence, that space, was different from what they had now.

Everything was different from building _this_ with Shikamaru.

_And look how you’ve damaged it…_

Neji shook his head at the thought – dwelling got him nowhere and he knew that, if anything, he’s _learned_. And learning to stop repeating mistakes meant not letting the past share space with him, in a house that is his and no one else’s.

The past wasn’t meant to live in the now – all it did was strangle the present, it didn’t matter if the memories were good or bad...

He blinked, somewhere in the back of his mind realizing he’d been tending to the Monstera for too long. The stovetop hissed behind him, and he was idling over the past and the feeling of home as it never was. Not then in his cage, not now in his freedom.

It felt nice for once, but the food he was making felt like _thank you_ as much as _I’m sorry._ It wasn’t an apology, he’d never try to pass it off as one, but it was a gentle kindness he wished he was _louder_ about. 

_Stop wishing..._

But wishing for something good versus making something good – it was not easy. He was blind, in a dark room without the courtesy of knowing where each step would land him. He just knew one step was better than none, even if that step was a small kindness like rest and food.

Shikamaru would still appreciate it, rolling his eyes and complaining about lost time all the same. He’d still have bags under his eyes, and he’d yawn too much, and he’d come home and care for Neji in the way he needs because he’s just _good_ at things like that – and Neji would be left to find a way to make up the difference.

It’s an odd feeling to want so much for a person and being incapable of giving it.

_He asks for so little, and yet..._

He’d think that for all that’s asked of him, so little of it, so little it felt like nothing at all – he was trying too hard for it to amount to nothing. He tried, but it wasn’t enough.

_I can’t even give you a restful night..._

There was a wet crunch, and Neji crushed the leaf stem in his hand before he knew it. He glared into it, unfurling the clasp of his fingers, realizing he’d done it with a slow sort of recognition that pulled him from his chasing thought.

A lingering feeling of headache bloomed across his skin like static, but it was small, crackling, light.

_No_.

He couldn’t stop the thoughts – the understanding of knowing what it took to hurt a home. Even now, he’d created something from nothing. Fires from blown out candles, smoke already clearing if not for the way he clung to it. He’d wanted this, but didn’t want to hurt it. The _yearning_ was so strong, marrow deep, and yet...

_Shut up, stop wishing._

_Stop..._

The smell of something hot and grainy pulled Neji from the crushed leaf in his hand, and it was a second before he realized his rice was burning.

_Fuck–_

“Ah –” he muttered to himself, leaving the foliage to the soil of the pot before turning to the stove.

He took the cast-iron off immediately, the rich smell of burnt rice filling the air. He quickly set aside the rice and moved the good, fluffy grain to a bowl on the counter. The soup was in good condition, and he tossed in the last of the ginger before turning off the heat.

He plated the rice and portioned out the broth, staring at the two matching white porcelains on the counter and wondering why it felt so empty. Sure, it was enough for Shikamaru, but was it enough –

Neji pulled in a short, clipped breath.

_Stop being so dramatic._

He set a lid on the soup with too much force, angered at the hold his past still had on him. Maybe the trials were recent, but the incidents themselves were so far in the past that it was laughable they clung to him like Shikamaru’s cigarette smoke clung to his vest.

_It’s the past._

He set out silverware for them both, clinking against each other as he sat them on the table. He wondered why, despite the ache it leaves deep in his stomach, he was the one doing the _holding on_. Why he was the one reaching backwards and asking it to grab…

_Leave it alone._

He sat the cast iron and the bowl in the sink, running hot water over the unmoving, blackened rice stuck to the tough texture.

There were better things for them– they existed in the _present_ , and all they required from him was care. Yet caring, being gentle, was almost too much for his shaking hands, tasked with too much as is.

_Focus on important things..._

Things like Shikamaru and Gai and the dumb plant he has to tend to.

But better starts with effort, like making up for it, like getting over the anger that he _knows_ to set aside–

“Hmm.” The blackened rice wasn’t giving.

His brow dipped, furrowing just a bit as his hands grew more tense.

No, he had it all wrong – he didn’t need gentle hands or care. This anger was beyond kindness, beyond patience and compassion to treat it. What it _really_ needed was to be shoved away into a dark corner of their house till it died, and then he’d sweep it out into the streets for the rain to wash away...

Neji turned the left faucet further, ran the water hot, and scrubbed harder. A large piece came apart, crumbling against the steam and the friction as he scrubbed –

He didn’t get very far – he heard heavy footsteps, loud and careless as they descended the stairs – ones that didn’t bother to avoid the third and fourth step that always creaked.

Neji’s hands stopped their careless rhythm.

The anger blossoming within him, the thoughts he’d led himself to in the quiet, uninterrupted moments of peace in the morning – they vanished, and Neji was left with hot steam climbing up his cheeks.

He stepped away from the steam, and Shikamaru rounded the corner from the stairs on his right.

It was 6:30, and Neji had burnt rice, coffee, and soup waiting for the man he loves.

Neji turned off the water and let the burnt rice sit, soaking as he dried his hands. He glanced at Shikamaru, who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand. 

His hair was still messy and falling around his face with little grace, and he was already dressed for work, flak jacket and toolbag in all. 

Something with claws crawled up Neji’s stomach, seeing how exhaustion had pulled on Shikamaru’s posture, on his eyes as he took in the sight of rice and the bowls set out. He still looked so tired.

“Smells good,” Shikamaru chuckled before yawning, a hair tie in hand as he held it up against his mouth in a yawn.

“I may have burned some of it,” Neji said softly, stepping away from the sink and setting aside the dishcloth he’d dried his hands with. He gestured quickly to the hair tie. “Let me,” he said, circling until he stood behind Shikamaru.

“May have?” He sounded like he was rolling his eyes, voice shaped like a smile. “Lucky for you, I’ll eat anything,” Shikamaru sighed, slouching and giving up the black tie over his shoulder.

“After what you tried to serve me last weekend, of course you’d eat anything,” Neji said, fingers gathering his hair against the nape of his neck.

“So elitist, can’t even eat takeout…”

Neji laughed, but left it at that. 

Shikamaru sighed into Neji’s tending ministrations as he gently pulled his messy hair into a ponytail. His fingers, long and delicate, separated strands easily, familiarly, carding through till there were no tangles.

“I’m almost done with this shit, Neji,” and Shikamaru’s voice was soft as he sighed around his name. “One more day and that’s it for these damn procedurals...”

Neji leaned in, pressed his lips lightly against the warm skin of his neck. “I see how hard it has been on you. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

For many reasons, and Neji would say none of them. They both knew, after all.

Neji tied the band twice around Shikamaru’s thick band of hair, tugging it just the right way, centering it with intentional fingers.

“Hmmm… thank you,” Shikamaru said, turning around in the little space they had between each other, back to the counter. He leaned his hips against the surface, crossing his arms loosely. His smile reached his eyes. He looked more awake, though sleep still touched his voice. “For the food, and extra sleep.”

Neji looked to the sink, to the rising steam.

“I thought you needed it,” he said softly, reaching out his hand to idle on Shikamaru’s upper stomach. “You’re tired,” Neji said quietly, accepting the hands that sought his own. They clasped loosely, fingers and pressed palms.

“Maybe, but what else is new? I knew what being Naruto’s advisor meant after all…” The smell of burn still lingered. “Got distracted?”

“By the plant,” Neji said, eyes returning to Shikamaru. Shikamaru raised his eyebrows slightly at the uninspired answer.

Shikamaru turned his attention toward the source of the burnt aroma. Neji watched his profile, the way his expression and flat eyes changed so little.

He waited a moment, but Neji felt the words before they came. “How’d you sleep?”

Neji felt the invisible door opening, wondering what would come of innocuous questions and good intent. “Well enough.”

“You keep waking up at night. It’s been happening for nearly a week,” and Shikamaru’s eyes returned from the sink and back to him.

He wasn’t wrong. “I suppose.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

He’s trying.

Neji only has flat eyes to offer him. He didn’t know enough about what _it_ was to even try, he just knew its repercussions, the effects without the cause...

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He knew it made him feel small.

“That’s not what I’m concerned about.”

Neji sighed, turning his opal eyes down into the small space between them, between the frame of arms and held hands. “I understood… I just don’t have answers.”

Shikamaru just hummed, probably knowing all that Neji failed to say. He probably felt he’d reached the end of that path, had anticipated Neji’s resistance and decided that he didn’t want to tip the scales.

Not before work, anyway. 

Neji let Shikamaru bring a finger to rest beneath his chin so that he could kiss him on the cheek. “Fine…” 

He glanced to the clock, inhaling deeply and letting out an ardent sigh. His head tilted forward until he bumped lightly into Neji’s forehead.

“Time isn’t on our side right now, anyway,” he said, before letting go of Neji. 

Neji didn’t voice his relief, just let it live silently in him. “I suppose not.”

Shikamaru grabbed his food and filled his thermos with coffee, and Neji quietly moved around him to sit at the table. Shikamaru was still tired, but the coffee brought more life to his waking eyes. He sat down at the side closest to Neji, looking first to the food then to him and smiling by means of a thank you.

Shikamaru took Neji’s hand, nothing more than resting his palm flat against his. His thumb idly rubbed back and forth across his knuckles, skin softened in the age of peace. “I’ll have a break from duty soon,” he said before taking a bite of rice with his soup. “Starting after tomorrow’s conference.”

Neji nodded in response. “I’m glad, Shikamaru. It’s been a long while.”

Shikamaru spared him another look with the squeeze of the hand. He let go with a gentle shake, but his heat still lingered.

It was still a surprise that Shikamaru could make him feel like _this_ , and it would make Neji’s insides stir with a pleasant heat– though when it happened Neji would write it off without a second thought, because any sort of accepting or loving gaze came with an _I’m sorry_ , and he hated the way guilt overflowed sometimes.

“Are you gonna come to the meeting?”

Like now, it was at the edge of spilling. Shikamaru saw the hesitation, but didn’t speak on it.

Neji knew this wasn’t something he could miss – it was the result of all that Shikamaru had poured into Konoha, all that he had sacrificed for it . Pride swelled in his chest at the thought of all that Shikamaru had accomplished.

He’d never be able to avoid it in good faith. He _wants_ to go, but he knows the questions he hates were just the flies to fruit and he didn’t want to feed them any more– knew the way the Konoha Times would twist his presence. They were unashamed at how greatly they enjoyed the entertainment his family had provided, and he knew the newspapers would be there tomorrow for the same reasons. 

Neji had seen enough of them to last a lifetime.

_Still..._

Neji nodded, looking off to the farthest wall in the adjacent living room. “Yes.”

Shikamaru never had expectations, and certainly didn’t when asking such a question. Still, he smiled in Neji’s peripheral.

Shikamaru leaned forward into the space between them, realigning his attention back into the collar of Shikamaru’s jacket.

“Thank you,” he whispered into his ear, before kissing it with a lazy grin. “It’ll be a drag, but it’s just the last leg of this metaphorically long mile and at the end of it is a fucking pillow.”

Neji hummed a not-quite chuckle at the thought. “We can celebrate.”

“Hmm...I’d like that.”

Shikamaru returned to his food with a new, hurried pace, and Neji took a bite of his rice, eating slowly around a small mouthful. The quiet morning returned, accompanied with the light sounds of silverware and the heater kicking on above...

Something felt out of place, but Neji didn’t know what it was. He wanted to guess, but knew that he shouldn’t extend his intuition into areas it didn’t belong. That’s why he didn’t take the occasional lapse of good timing and Shikamaru’s sidelong glances as anything _but_ glances. They were quick, and though they felt probing, Neji was probably wrong...

Shikamaru had a way of looking dull or bored while still remaining sharp, watchful – it was the same eyes he’d met years ago over board games, strategy games. He knew how to recognize it, and that Shikamaru was nothing if not intentional...

Neji took another bite – the low and slowly rising tide of anticipation was present, he felt it kick, but it wasn’t unmanageable. “How long will you be free this time?”

Shikamaru rolled his eyes and laughed, screwing his thermos shut. They both remember the break they’d gotten in his last break from a project, the restless few days between them that turned into trials that turned into even more projects. “I wrangled a week out of Naruto this time.”

Shikamaru was finishing off his food, still decidedly focused and quiet. 

Neji didn’t like the feeling of watchful probing – didn’t like the snaking way Shikamaru’s eyes tilted toward him every so often, the way he ate slowly, despite the clock inching closer toward the turn of the hour.

It didn’t feel nice, though it had no reason not to, everything was fine –

Shikamaru looked to him again, out of the corner of his eye with a spoon up to his mouth.

He looked back down, unhurried when their eyes met, and Neji asked, “Is it okay?”

He wasn’t sure what he was asking after. Shikamaru smiled enough – not in a way Neji thought was full, but kindly. “Yes, thank you.”

Neji so often knew what was in Shikamaru’s mind -- so much like his own, yet now he was carefully guarded. Neji wanted nothing more than to know his thoughts, to keep from guessing, anticipation building in his spine at the burning curiosity.

Neji finished a half a bowl of rice, swallowing thickly around it in hopes it didn’t turn sour.

He set his spoon down, and Shikamaru eyed him, looking down briefly to the food and Neji’s motionless hands. He was thinking, and Neji couldn’t, didn’t, _know_ what it could be, except for, maybe, disappointment.

Neji felt something quietly breaking. It wasn’t clear what it was, either – maybe it was Shikamaru, maybe it was him. Maybe it was the clock that was getting closer to 7 than Shikamaru normally allowed.

“I’ll be back later than normal today,” Shikamaru started, looking down at his emptied bowls. He stretched his arms above his head, sighing. “I’m getting some preliminaries done for when I’m back.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re,” and he pursed his lips, arms coming down, shoulders relaxing, “ – getting some clerks to pull from the medical archives.”

“So this is for more work?”

Shikamaru nodded, eyes closed. “Yep.”

Neji’s stomach twisted again. “Already?”

It was Shikamaru’s turn to sigh, pulling Neji’s eyes back up to meet his. “This is just one of the several projects we have to work on and, fortunately for me, they’re back to back.”

Neji remembered that he’d called Naruto and Shikamaru determined - weeks ago, when they had started and the momentum from the trial had been heavy and unstoppable.

There was more motive and momentum than he’d thought, though he felt like a fool to have thought otherwise. That they’d leave something alone, that they’d wait for it to work itself out –

“Surely, that’s…”

“Unavoidable. Some of it is overdue by years…” As he stacked his bowls together it was clear that he couldn’t prolong their time together any longer. Still, he pushed them aside, making sure he had his attention. “You know that…”

It wasn’t accusational, but it tied a knot in the back of Neji’s throat.

Neji ignored the last statement, hesitating as he felt the conversation’s direction take a new course. He wasn’t sure he liked it, and he pulled away to lean against the head of the chair. “Why are you so motivated to do this now?”

He did not hesitate. “It is important to me that it’s done.”

Neji didn’t have anything to say to that, nothing that wasn’t selfish or self serving. And the ache in his stomach, the squeeze around his heart, the ill feeling rising. It felt like…

_Don’t_ …

But it was hard not to focus on all Shikamaru could sacrifice and not feel bitter, not feel like he was the one pulling him down. He tried to keep the heat from leaking out, tried not to let Shikamaru be the reason to let the bubbling anger come back.

_Why do you do this?_

Shikamaru noticed, his eyes growing wide at the way Neji’s eyes clouded. “Neji?”

Shikamaru reached out his hand again, trying to grab his hand. “You here with me?”

Neji didn’t say anything – he knew what it tasted like to know he was going to regret something in the near future, so he just kept his mouth shut 

He nodded, offering nothing more.

Another waiting moment came and went and Shikamaru was clearly weighing his words. Maybe wondering if they were _sensitive_ enough for him, and it felt gross, being treated like porcelain.

Shikamaru looked at him again, head tilted just a bit to the side. “Tonight when I’m back, we’ll talk?”

“If you have something to say, then say it.” It came out stronger than he intended. 

Shikamaru shifted and turned to face Neji, and all the things he wanted to say were right _there_ in his trained eyes. “Fine, Neji.”

Neji waited, staring out into the living room, to the window and the morning light.

“Since I don’t think either of us likes to beat around the bush, I’m just going to say it. You need _help_ , and –”

“I had no idea, Shikamaru – thank you for being so forward. So _candid_ with me.”

Shikamaru closed his eyes and _sighed_ . “That’s what I mean, Neji. I -- hey,” and Shikamaru leaned in just a bit, trying to interrupt Neji’s stray line of vision. “Why can’t you just _look_ at me?”

His eyes remained on the outside sky. “I don’t understand why you want to tell me things I already know.”

“It’s so we can get _through_ it, and if you could just lo–”

Neji’s eyes snapped back, locking on Shikamaru’s. “I handle myself on my own and I do it _without_ your reminders. This is not something I enjoy, and you–”

Shikamaru pushed his chair back, a dry sound against the grain of the floor. “ _Stop_ – I need you to just talk with me.”

“So I can hear about how much help I need? Perhaps we should talk about how I jeopardized my ANBU unit and nearly killed –”

“ _No_ . I’m not even thinking of that. It’s not a _bad_ –”

“I’m glad to hear that I’m not –”

“ _Talk_ with me, please – it doesn’t have to be _this_ -”

“Then would you _stop_ !” He couldn’t stop the way his Byakugan flashed, the brief glint of a monochrome world before settling back into the bright colors of day. “If you _want_ to help me, then listen to what I want.”

Shikamaru’s jaw was set, tight – he’d reached the end of his patience, the end of the slack he generously gave in abundance.

It stopped the words from slipping from Neji’s mouth.

Shikamaru’s fingers twitched on the table, and he pulled in a deep breath, only to release it slowly. “You can’t expect this to go away ‘cause you want it to. It doesn’t _work_ like that, and I know that’s what you want. But it’s not making you feel any better, you’re barely eating, you don’t even want to _speak_ to me –”

Neji stood – he had worried he couldn’t understand what Shikamaru was feeling, but now, for once in a shamefully long time, he could identify something – and it was _worry_. It was sadness. 

It was enough to make Neji stand, to take to the stairs as quickly as his feet would carry him, except –

It was only a few feet before Shikamaru also stood, just to take hold of his wrist – not roughly, just enough to make Neji think twice.

He squeezed, trying to coax _something_ out. He tried to get his attention, his eyes, and he succeeded for just a moment... 

“Neji… you’re worrying me,” Shikamaru said, finally. Small, subdued, tired, mirrored in his earnest eyes.

That was all it took. The broken consonants, falling flat, not followed up by anything but _his_ shaky breath...

That admission, finally enough to make his guilt go sour…

_Fuck –_

He gulped around a violent nausea rising up his throat, hands tensing before pulling away from Shikamaru’s hold. He turned toward the living room, quick, heart in his throat. He shakily stumbled to the small trash can near the door, close enough to catch whatever there was to throw up before –

Rice, the burn of green tea – water. Then, finally, dry heaves.

Heavy, _heaving_ – 

Bile, _again_.

His hands shook against the sides of the trash, making it tremble like he did.

How was he so easily reduced to this? He’d been okay, for so long, in far worse conditions and now, in moments calm and intimate and loving and _everything_ he ever craved – that great happiness, it came down on him like mountains and turned his stomach into involuntary admission of guilt, of hurt, of –

He didn’t know what he was admitting – he just knew that now, throwing up in front of Shikamaru like this when he’d, at least, had that _one_ privacy, his own disgusting privacy, to himself – 

He wretched again, throat raw and unforgiving against every thought that came and went.

And not for the first time, he thought _look at you_ , with that creeping ache like shattered glass starting in his head. He’d turned concern and Shikamaru’s love into _this._

But Shikamaru’s hand was on his back just then. His other hand gathered his stray hairs, a waterfall over Neji’s shoulders, and collected it against his spine. His hands were warm spots, glowing, radiating, and he could feel their burn even with a sweater between the two.

Neji didn’t have any more to give in this forced purging, except, maybe, his energy – so he kneeled down onto the cold wood slats of the kitchen floor and pushed the trash can out of the way, leaning up against the wall in its place. His chest heaved, pulling in distinct breaths through his nose like he always did in the comedown – calming as fast as possible, ignoring Shikamaru’s presence if only for his peace of mind.

_Steady._

Neji folded his legs into a lotus, proper form gone in favor of comfort. Shikamaru, quietly, followed his example – and gods, he was _quiet._ He didn’t say a word, not when Neji was heaving, and not now as he took a seat in front of Neji.

Shikamaru pulled his legs up to his chest, one arm hooked around his knees and the other, closer one freed to reach out for Neji’s.

Neji, for all the embarrassment of the last few long minutes, took his offered hand into his own. Held on tight, because every muscle and tendon in him was taut with need, and he couldn’t stop himself.

Silence fell, so loud after the room forgot the sound of Neji’s choking breath around empty vomit.

In the past, when he would wake up in panic, or argue in anger, or admit bits and pieces of half truths, Shikamaru would _say_ something. He’d speak, whether it be his mind or the truth or some half-joke to make the tension hurt less– he’d do it, because that’s what he always did.

That was not the case now. Neji didn’t want to look up from the spot on the floor between his legs, the silence was too _much_. It wasn’t something he ever encountered – Shikamaru being so quiet, voicing nothing of what he was thinking…

_You want him to do all the work, is that it?_

He’d reached his limit, hadn’t he? This was the moment Shikamaru realized there wasn’t anything more worth saying. It had already been said, and done, and now...

_You tired him out._

Neji couldn’t even say he was wrong. He wasn’t. He was in his rightful place to finally be done with… _this_ . The unnecessary, _troublesome_ mess he’d created.

Nothing of it reassured his mind or his body, not even close – but it did as any good realization did, and at least provided him something solid to hold on to.

It didn’t keep his hands from shaking, no matter how controlled the rest of his body rigidly became – small as it was, controlled as it was, Shikamaru must have felt it, his weak, tense fingers shaking endlessly.

Shikamaru kept his silence, just as he kept his chakra flat, steady and unbothered. The kitchen was empty except for the sound of Neji’s breath as it reverberated through his head, his senses attuned to Shikamaru and the world between them.

They continued on – shaking and feeling and saying nothing.

Shikamaru squeezed his hand at the end of what felt like hours, but only a few minutes passed.

“Don’t you have to be in the office?” Neji whispered, disgusted at the rawness of his throat, the way the air splintered around such indelicate intrusion.

“Nah, I slept in.”

Neji looked up, not knowing what he expected, but knowing it wasn’t that. Shikamaru wasn’t looking at him, or around the room, or to their hands – instead his eyes were closed, his head tilted forward with his cheek laid on his knees.

Resting.

“...excuse me?”

Shikamru snorted, eyes still closed. “Yeah, slept in. My partner took me out drinking and I overdid it.”

Neji squeezed his hand back in delayed reaction, lips parting – the fates gave sweet things in bitter moments.

“Shit, I slept in so long that,” he looked up, irises shifting their focus to the doorway and the clock above it. “ – I didn’t even leave the house till 7. Lazy, I know.”

“Shikamaru...”

His grip grew tighter. “Yeah?”

“You don’t have to.”

Shikamaru returned his eyes to a slit, a restful medium between sleep and awareness. “I don’t _have_ to do anything.”

“Shouldn’t you be more inquisitive?”

“I’ve tried my hand at that.”

He dropped his head, a small movement that shook free a few stray locks of hair. “I suppose you have.”

“Besides, I don’t know what else I can say.” Shikamaru pulled in a deep breath. Absently, in the back of Neji’s thoughts, he knew Shikamaru’s position between the two of them was anything but easy, that he must have been just as on edge. “If you didn’t want to hear from me before, or speak about it now, then I don’t know what I can do. ”

It was a bereavement Neji couldn’t argue, though, for the first time in a long time, he wished he could.

“You need something I can’t give.”

“Don’t say that.”

Shikamaru stiffly brought his head back up, shoulders uncurling, posture straightening out just a bit. He looked to the wall behind Neji with little interest. “I told you… I don’t have all the right things to give you. I just know you’re hurting and I can’t sit back and let it happen.”

Neji’s headache, the sharp mimic of the curse that had lived in his skin, became warmer – harsher. “Yes, throwing up is my choice because I want to hurt myself. I enjoy this, clearly.”

Shikamaru eyed him sharply, and Neji fell silent. He’d never looked so angry, so out of patience.

“Did I say that?”

Neji tried to let go of his hand, but Shikamaru’s grip was firm and decided.

Neji’s face grew warm, and he shook his head.

_You’re a fool_.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not for the last time.

“Thank you... Hey, come over here.”

He tugged at Neji’s hand, and Neji looked at him and felt the weights drop.

Shikamaru pulled him in, tugged at his elbow, urging him forward. Shikamaru made room for him, kicked his feet out so that Neji could sit between them. They faced each other, legs brushing in the bracket of Shikamaru’s thighs, the floor cold beneath them.

Shikamaru reached up with his outstretched hand, the one he pulled Neji forward by, to caress his jaw with splayed, stretching fingers. His thumb rested just underneath the line of his jaw, enough to steady their eyelock.

It burned, so much, so strongly, and Neji held on to that guiding arm with both his hands like he was begging.

Shikamaru leaned in, kissed him gently despite the command in his hands, in his half-open eyes.

It was a lot to unfurl so when he let Neji go, Neji relaxed his hands, attention briefly attached to the fact that there was a trash can behind him, and that he recently used it. “Disgusting.”

Shikamaru shrugged, hands still on Neji. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I…”

Shikamaru looked hopeful. “Tell me.”

_Tell you what?_

For all he has experienced and felt, so little of it was tangible. So little of it, actionable. All that was truly there for him was his mind, a tangle of wordless feelings floating in and out of sight. How would he start? He’d tried to put it into words, but the few times he did, before he felt too much like a gaping wound and decided to stop, it always came out wrong. It didn’t fit the right form, didn’t sound like how it felt.

With missions, he could detail it from beginning to end – actions, starts, resolutions. But this was nothing physical. It was just a yarn of emotions, a memory of ache, a sense of falling short when he tried to make them make sense– tried to bridge here and there and help Shikamaru cross it. He’d be giving Shikamaru’s restless, never still mind into yet more kindling.

_More responsibility._

Was it even fair to pass that on?

But Shikamaru was still waiting, watching him as he considered what was okay to say, and Neji could never win, never act right like the moment calls for. So he took the initiative while Neji waded through his murky mind. “I know, you know.”

Neji did not know, and he raised his eyebrows in question.

Shikamaru’s hand, the one that released him from their kiss, was idle on the curve of his collarbone. “That you think you’re hurting me.”

This wasn’t for _now_ –

“Please…”

“Maybe it’s not the only reason, but that’s why you don’t want to tell me anything.”

Neji’s hands were still wrapped around Shikamaru’s wrist, his forearm – he didn’t know where to place them, otherwise, but it felt like his life line. “I can’t – stop…”

“Because you think it’ll burden or upset me.”

“Shikamaru–”

“Cause maybe I might find it too troublesome to deal with –”

“You think you know everything?”

“Of course not, I –”

“Shikamaru, don’t do this, stop –”

“I _can’t._ I need you to hear it and _know_ –”

“Know what? That you’ll continue to try to fix me from my clan and all the things they did to shape me into some broken –”

“No, I’m saying if it’s about privacy, I understand. I _get_ it, but if you think it’s a burden –”

“That’s not it,” and it was a hard lie that forced itself – lying to Shikamaru was like poison, every time he made himself drink it. 

“Neji – listen.”

He did, but his gaze drifted off like a compass that lost its way.

“You’re not hurting me. Hey, eyes open. Look at me.”

Maybe it was embarrassment as much as it was about burden – Neji didn’t have the eyes to distinguish the two, and they sat together in an entangled harmony, robbing him of the choice to speak.

“I _can’t_ … _It’s embarrassing,_ ” he wonders where he got the gall to say such a thing, even if in such a hushed, shamed whisper,“– and you trying to fix me –”

“I’m not trying to _fix_ you –”

“Then you’re trying to –”

“I’m not trying to do anything – I’m not trying to fix you, or change you, or _force_ you. I’m just _here_. That’s it.”

“For now, maybe.”

Neji’s heart stalled like it didn’t expect the admission, just as surprised as Shikamaru.

“Neji.”

Neji’s body was so cold, stunned – words he didn’t even want to give form to, give the world _access_ to, slipped from his mouth like doves at a wedding and there wasn’t a single thing he could do to bring them back.

He was shockingly still, for all the humility that lived in him. His eyes closed of their own accord, instead – blocking out the light around him, the way Shikamaru must be looking at him that he didn’t have the strength of will to face, and just…

_You know I’m right_ , _though..._

The unease should have died in the way Shikamaru was so easily able to slice through the thick air, not with his words, but the tone he spoke them so confidently with. “I love you too much for that to happen.”

He did not feel better from it. It was like when they’re in bed, and he’s in Neji, and it’s so slow it’s almost painful – Shikamaru, with all his honesty, with all his rawness and exposed intentions, he speaks so reverently and softly, so loving like he never deserved –

Neji’s lips quivered against every attempt he made to just _shut up_ , to calm down or force away everything so he could keep from falling apart in the sun – in the most pathetic way he’d ever considered because of course, something like this would be enough to break him.

Like he didn’t _know_ that Shikamaru, _his_ Shikamaru – the one of six years and more – loved him. 

“You keep putting your faith in me,” Neji whispered.

Shikamaru continued to put his faith in him regardless. Again and again and again.

Shikamaru pulled his body close to his, wrapping his hand soft around the curve of his neck, resting his forehead against Neji’s.

“It’s misplaced…”

Shikamaru shook his head. “I’m not gonna argue about this,” he said, pulling them into a half embrace that left them with heads on shoulders.

“Shi–”

“ _Stop_ telling me about what I know, Neji – I don’t need you to explain why I’m wrong, or that I’m… I don’t know, not supposed to want to be here.”

_I don’t know how you can still..._

“Hey.”

He shook his head, feeling Shikamaru trying to pull away, shift them, turn them into each other in a way where Neji couldn’t ever run –

Vulnerable, the type that aches and bleeds and begs.

Shikamaru separated them. And because Neji owed him everything he was capable of giving, he gave him his attention though it burned, opening his eyes. 

Shikamaru dropped his hand down his neck – his shoulders, feeling over the muscles of his upper arm under cloth, until it came to rest within the loose hold of Neji’s right hand. He was good about that. About grounding him, keeping him as close as possible, even when Neji was adrift. He dipped his head until shadows fell over his eyes, searching, waiting for Neji’s to be pulled back like driftwood to the shore.

_Stop looking..._

He was the worst version of himself, felt it in his bones and every fiber connected to them. The corners of his mouth pinched around grinding teeth – trying to keep himself from letting more vulnerabilities slip through the cracks of his ceramic skin.

“You’re not a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Shikamaru finally said.

_Fuck –_

Before Shikamaru had a chance to see the seal break and the tears fall, Neji broke their grip – he pressed his shaking fingers over Shikamaru’s eyes, hiding the shock and sweetness and whatever else he hoped was there because it was too much that he was being given. “ _Please…”_

Shikamaru grabbed his wrist and pulled it down, meeting no resistance.

“Even if you’re the one making the sacrifice,” he whispered. He took Neji’s face into his grip again, careful and attentive but very much intentional and unyielding.

Neji didn’t fight it, because it was Shikamaru, but the attention burned like summer light through glass.

“Stop _looking_ at me…”

Shikamaru’s eyes tilted up just a bit, hands tensing and relaxing around his cheeks, his jaw – his ear and every other part held for observance. “Why?”

_You’ll realize what’s in me._

Shikamaru waited.

_You’ll see, and you’ll hate it._

“I feel,” and he didn’t want to say _disgusting_ so he didn’t. “Like I — can’t _tell_ you.”

He pretended he didn't see the hurt Shikamaru covered up so well. Shikamaru had a thousand things to say, but didn’t. Instead he kissed Neji, tasting bitter like coffee.

Shikamaru rubbed his jaw with his thumb, and the words between them were tiny but _loud_. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Shikamaru hesitated, in the smallest of ways.“If it can’t be me, you should talk to someone else. I’d just be glad it would be anyone.”

_It shouldn’t have to be you._

But then again, it begged another question. “Who would that be? If not you, who would wish to hear me talk about _anger_?”

Neji waited, and Shikamaru didn’t have an answer – just a pensive stare, before looking down again.

Neji’s eyebrows raised a fraction. “What?”

Shikamaru looked up to the clock, and his hands stiffened at what he saw. He sighed through his nose, raising his eyebrows in defeat. It must have been the thought of work. Of the conference, of the rest of the day he hadn’t even started– Neji almost smelled tobacco at the thought of it all.

“I’m pushing it today,” Shikamaru said, more to himself than Neji. His eyes were more distant, thinner, before reeling back into the topic at hand with a return of his gaze. “It’s, uh, a lot – come on, don’t look at me like that, it’s not bad, it’s just… it’ll be easier when we have time tonight. When I’m back, we’ll talk?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “Yes.”

Shikamaru sighed, smiling in a defeated way that made Neji’s stomach twist in an odd shape. He moved a hand to the wood of the floor, to push off, but Neji grabbed him, held his wrist around the ring of his long undershirt.

“Just… brush your teeth before you go.”

Shikamaru snorted. “Can’t say I expected you to tell me I have bad breath.”

Shikamaru stood, then, offering his hand. “If you didn’t make a habit out of kissing me after I’ve been ill, perhaps I wouldn’t have to.”

Shikamaru waited, paused like he was thinking, before his eyes lit up and, “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”

Neji walked him to the door and kissed him.

“I’ll see you later,” Neji whispered into the kiss, acknowledging the promise of _later_ when he held on just a bit longer. 

“Later,” Shikamaru nodded before departing.

It was 7:15, and Shikamaru was running late.

~

Growing up, Neji learned that burden was a deeply personal weight to carry-- it should never be placed on another’s shoulders to be dealt with. If it was too heavy, it might crush another -- or they simply wouldn’t care enough to even try lifting it, wouldn’t even try.

Besides, he was certain his was too much to move, anyway. Too hefty, too suffocating -- moving it just caused more damage, and who knew what that would do to another unequipped for such injury.

_But where should it be put, if finally moved?_

No matter how he tried to think of it, how he tried to rationalize letting the weight be taken, if even by the smallest piece… he couldn’t justify it. It was too much toxicity to let someone else house within themselves. Neji saw what it did to the house inside him, after all.

The moments he feels closest to speaking, closest to divulging more than fragments, more than shaky truths, he thinks about that. About the fairness of it all, and the fact that burden can never truly be shifted or reallocated, not really. It’s poison, and all it does is poison everyone who is kind enough to touch it.

_You don’t make your loved ones carry your weight._

~

Neji sat alone in the kitchen after Shikamaru left – kissed him goodbye, just to catch sight of him lighting a cigarette down the way. It made him sick, sinking in his stomach like a stone to a river’s floor. That weight carried him, and returning to the wall in the kitchen, back pressed up against it, seemed like his only option.

The food grew cold in the time he sat there. He should have been putting it away, but nothing registered outside of Shikamaru, and the patience Neji had worn down all on his own. It didn’t take a mission or a bad week, it just took him. He’d seen the cigarette cartons, smelled the lingering smoke late at night, and knew the stress was greater than Shikamaru ever confessed.

Shikamaru wanted _better_ – Neji didn’t hate that, knew it was something to strive toward, and he didn’t hate the idea of mending some of the damage he had done...

He’d hated his wounds being pried open, though. They’d done it once, and he turned into this – if Shikamaru _tried_ , and succeeded, what else might come of it?

He might grow resentful of him –

_No._

Neji’s eyes closed, trying to pull himself back into his body, away from tangent thoughts – ones of losing home, losing friends, losing himself –

– losing Shikamaru.

He was fine to lose many things – attachments were few and far inbetween...

Shikamaru was the line he’d never cross. His only home, long before he’d found love in him, was not something worth abandoning – if it was even possible to choose that, at all.

But then, he’d been capable of abandoning _family_ … 

He rolled his head against the back of the wall, eyeing the trash from the corner of his eyes. The way the sick, old feeling, the flash headaches – how reminiscent they were of an old fever dream, they drove his body to _this_ state.

He’d hoped the space he’d given himself, the privacy he’d given himself, was enough to fix what was broken.

He’d even tried to run from everyone in his life – including Hinata, the only good of the family he’d once been owned by, and he’d let her believe, in his absence, that maybe he held no space for her. It was for nothing, and a trashcan and so many restless nights had proven it.

It really was all for nothing – just scraps of pride, but they would end up in the trash too. 

He knew he needed to do something – anything. Whatever it took, that would keep him from being poison to his own home, to his friends and loved ones.

_You could fix it._

Whatever that means.

And he didn’t know where the thought came from, to visit _her_ , but it seized him like a reflex – and he got up, quick and compelled, before he could let himself doubt away the momentum. 

He cleaned up, got dressed warm in a sweater and scarf, and was out the front door with an umbrella. He ignored the lingering wisps of smoke that clung to the path he took, though time enough had passed that it couldn’t have been Shikamaru’s.

The wet ground, the wet streets – everything down the grey and blue hued alley smelled fresh, and the rain vacated the paths as Neji walked them. The small food stands on their street, the park to the left with the shrine – all of it was empty, and he passed few people scurrying out of the weather.

The falling autumn rain caught in his long hair even still, underneath an umbrella and scarf.

His feet grew heavy, steps splashing up the path he took as he realized where he was headed. Instinct that he might never be able to get rid of made his heart quicken at the thought of returning to the Estate. Going back, if even for a small moment, felt like falling back in time.

But he bit away the feeling like someone starving bites into raw meat – it hurt, it resisted, it was _gross_ , but it was necessary. 

Maybe seeing Hinata after all this time might not taste like raw meat, but when the streets started to turn familiar, and the roads started to improve before emptying out to wider spaces – 

He’d never know.

What would he say? Would it be okay to see her after so long, with his own guilt driving him to ask for forgiveness – not because she had tried to see him, had asked Shikamaru once if she could visit, because none of it mattered to Neji when he didn’t want to even look at her and see eyes like his own.

Neji stopped, feet drawing closed together as he looked at the road in front of him. The rain-darkened cobblestone was pittering with a misty glow, collecting in shallow puddles. The wider streets fed into rows of shops, all very clean and lit from within as people milled about. Some were clothes sellers, racks brought in against the doors to protect against the water. Others were offices, and some were specialty shops…

Was this what _Hinata_ needed?

He’d had chances, and he could have spoken to her on her terms – why did he think it was acceptable to seek her out only now? Now that he was fragile and felt like mending bridges…

Neji blinked against the thought, lungs deflating, crumbled bridges still like debris - he gripped the textured grain of the wood handle, and pivoted his feet, just to face the path he’d just walked.

_It is unfair._

He started his walk back, and kept his eyes low to the ground. He really did think, for a moment, he could be selfless.

The wind picked up – the tarps and awnings of the nearby shops shook loudly, and it carried strands of Neji’s hair in the gale. He closed his eyes against the sharp cold, but kept walking – turning left instead of right because maybe something different, the long way around, might make him change his mind.

But it was pointless to try anything if it just fed into the ego he has been trying to kill. Years in the making, and it still remained, strong and stubborn and easily shattered.

He was more than half way back home when he felt like someone was watching him .

It was only a few steps more when the feeling was confirmed. “Neji!”

His eyes flicked left, to a store front he knew very well. Tenten stood in front of the display window, behind her an assortment of weapons and practical tools. She quickly gestured for him to join her, and he stopped, hesitating –

“Come here!”

Muscle memory was strong, if it pulled him down here.

Once he was close enough, she grabbed him by the arm and pushed him to the side of her so that both of them were standing under the awning –

“Ten, let me at least fold my –” He fumbled to fold his umbrella as she shoved him toward the wet wire newspaper stand.

She was holding a ring of keys, kicking away the stand toward the inside of the shop. The lights were off, and it was 10 in the morning. “Just wait a minute!”

Looking around, taking in the weather and the lack of patrons– “Closing early?”

“My clients are ninja and farmers who think they could be shinobi because they set traps on their land. _No one_ is coming out today,” she sighed – there was relief in her voice. Then, with a twist of the key that she quickly – loudly – shoved into the pouch of her utility bag – “There we go!”

Neji’s eyes snaked around the open street he faced, watching the rivulets of water cascade down the street. “This is interesting timing, isn’t it?”

For him, at least – she found a way to him like few others. They were always in each other's rotation. “Yeah, and of course the one person moping in the rain would be you.”

“I’m not mope–”

“Got room for me under there?” She said softly, before eying the umbrella clumsily held against his chest. 

The thoughts in his head previously, the failed attempts to reach out to Hinata – they sunk, stones to a stagnant pond, and he smiled back. “How about lunch?”

She perked up at that. “Sounds good.”

“How is Ishikawa?”

Her eyes widened, just a small bit, before a bright expression replaced it. She raised on her toes, grabbed his arm out of sheer enthusiasm – 

“Yes!”

He let her crowd under the umbrella, savoring the piece of peace that always came with her presence. She fit tiny and small beside him, and they returned to the restaurant Gai always treated them to after an away mission.

He held the umbrella over the two of them, walking under grey skies and in good company.

~

Cold weather always drives people to places of warmth, and that proved true at Ishikawa, maybe even moreso. The building was small and square, and the intimate booths, lit from above, were warm escapes from the wet outside. The tables around them were filled with chattering people, the sounds of conversation drifting in and out of the booths, the tables in the center of the dining space.

The meat cooking, the smell of fish and citrus – it was a comfort. And it was as appetizing as it was off-putting, familiar in a jarring way, but Neji appreciated the grilled salmon anyway. 

Tenten, also, appreciated hers – far more vocally. “This feast? For _me_?”

“It’s my treat, Ten – don’t make it a –”

“It’s like you care for me.”

Neji grimaced, glancing to the window on his right that overlooked the rainy street. “Don’t say that as though you believe it.”

“Of course I don’t,” she said, dipping a slice of salmon in sauce. Her hand hovered under it while she ate. 

Neji followed her example, taking a bite of pickled salad. “Anyways, thank you for joining me.”

Laughter and humming conversation fell into their booth between the two of them eating. There was the clinking and running water in the background of dishes, and the door opening and closing near them filled the space with the pittering of slowed rainfall.

Neji picked up his white ceramic cup of chamomile tea, took a sip of the warm drink.

Tenten caught his eye. “Are you as keyed up as I am about tomorrow?”

Absently, it was in his mind that tomorrow was the meeting, and he had to agree. He had many reasons, and he nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

“As keyed up as Shikamaru and Naruto?”

Neji set the tea down against the tea plate, shoulders rounding just a bit. “Probably not as much as them.”

She snorted, exhaling too loudly in the next breath. “Yeah, probably not.”

“What are your concerns about tomorrow’s meeting?”

“I don’t know, honestly. Now that it’s tomorrow, I’m nervous and it’s _not_ just the lack of information being passed around. I can’t say I’m excited to handle whatever type of… publicity this will get, either.”

Neji nodded. Being a proctor was not an easy job. ”It will get a lot.”

“And I’ll be the one that has to hear about it… guess not as much as Naruto, now that I think about it –”

Neji huffed absently. At least that. “Shikamaru hasn’t really told me much, though I haven’t pried. I’d been meaning to, but…”

She understood easily, nodding. “Guess we’re both finding out tomorrow, huh?”

He nodded, fidgeting lightly with his teacup. “I guess we will wait and see.”

“Yeah…I’ve seen Shikamaru a lot, too –” Neji peeked up at the mention, and she continued. “Over the entire revision junk he’s been doing, running errands since I have nothing better to do right now. I sorta feel like I see him more than you. He’s probably pretty thrilled to be at the end of this whole thing.”

It would have been a nice thought, if he thought it would last long. “For a while, but he has more plans that apparently need carrying out. None that I know about, so I’m certain you’ll see him more often.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t sound so bitter, I don’t go home to the guy every night.”

Neji smiled, a true and honest one as he grabbed his chopsticks. “That’s true.”

She shot him a special kind of look, one with soft eyes and a knowing smile. It wasn’t purely speculative or soft or curious, he couldn’t really pin the compassionate note in her bright eyes, or what it reminded him of.

“So, are you really gonna make me ask?

He poked at his salad. “Ask…?”

“Yeah. Why you were out moping in the rain?”

“I already told you, I’m not moping –”

“When did you become such a bad liar?”

Neji closed his eyes, smiled, hand hesitating for a moment before taking a bite. He didn’t like the line of thought that question inspired, but had no energy to deny it. “Fine. I was going to see Hinata.”

She looked up at him once he returned to eating. She chewed on her thoughts for just a moment before, “At your family home?”

“Yes.”

“The direction you were walking from? Why’d you change your mind –”

“Perhaps I _reconsidered_ ,” and he felt the words try to curl around his canines, but he made sure they didn’t bite this time. “It ended up being a fortunate change of mind,” and he looked down to their shared plates of food.

“Hmm,” she hummed around another bite. 

Maybe, just naturally, she brings the easy admissions out of him. “I thought I’d pay her a visit, but it was a pointless endeavor. I’ve been looking for ways to fill my time that are… productive,” and he ignored the chakra bruises under his sweater that had just stopped aching. “It might have been a good idea, but while I’m not on duty, I’ve become…”

_Desperate_ , his mind almost funneled into his mouth, but nothing so small could scrape past his teeth, so he settled on, “Bored.”

“I mean, I’m bored without two weeks of work, so you must really be feeling it.”

He nodded into a half shrug. “It’s never ending.”

“When _is_ it ending?”

Who knew? Naruto told him he’d trust his word when he’s ready – and he’d be a fool to think Naruto is blind from Shikamaru’s life, though he knows he’d never divulge too much. Naruto would trust him, and Shikamaru, whether or not it was true.

However, Neji didn’t know if he could trust himself not to repeat his mistakes.

“I haven’t planned that far ahead, Ten.”

“Have you thought about desk work? Since you want to fill your time, that is.”

He couldn’t say he had – and he couldn’t tell her that it felt so ill fitting, working somewhere outside of ANBU. It was an occupiance of his mind and time that he failed to find elsewhere. “No.”

“Well maybe you should. I could bug you more often, too, if you were at a desk.”

“You say that as though you think it’s a positive. And it’s not that I don’t wish to be back, but I’d rather occupy my time with missions than idle around a stuffy office.”

He’d rather be on missions, he’d rather be busy with work, so much so that thoughts of _clan_ and arguments like he’d had with Shikamaru were but a nagging inkling of a thought. ANBU gave him what he needed, in a way the mission desk couldn’t.

“You think office work isn’t real work, don’t you?”

He shook his head. “No, no – I just feel… more useful in the field.”

“You can be _useful_ in other ways – I’ve found new jobs to do while my main work is MIA.”

“Yes, but I –”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’ve heard that many times, you can’t persuade me like that.”

“Come on, Neji – give me some credit. You might feel less inclined to loaf around in the rain if you tried new things. Or, you know,” She stuffed a too-big piece of salmon in her mouth and chewed with chubby cheeks, staring resolutely at him. “If you listened to me,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

That, he knows, is true. He’d done poorly to follow her previous advice, to _just talk_ , with every attempt ending in his refusal to continue. He’d continued to fail then, and he’d fail here too – there were no points in promises and considerations he knew he’d never fulfil.

“Maybe, but today isn’t the day I want to talk about my _career_. Please, Ten...”

“Fine, fine –” and she held her hands up half way. “But, more _importantly_ ,” and she held up a skewered bite of smoked salmon up, pointing at him with her chopstick. “Why is seeing Hinata a ‘pointless endeavor’?”

He scrubbed his free hand across his eyes, then pulled back to look around. To the table beside them that was empty, to the counter beyond it that was being minded by an older lady. To the sconces in the wall that lit the place too brightly when the window to his right showed only the dark of the outside storm. 

“It’s the first time,” he started, with his eyes on the store clerk counting coin and paper, “Since the trials. I don’t think she’d want to see me.”

“Oh…”

He settled his hands respectfully in front of himself, hand in hand. His thumbs twiddled on their own accord. “I thought she might not find it favorable that I visit her now…”

“Because you’re… bored?” Tenten tactfully, so purposefully, chose her words. 

He nodded, and in his peripheral he saw her brown hair shake loose in a similar gesture. “It was selfish to try.”

“Neji, you know she’d just be happy to hear you’re not dead.”

He tried not to grimace. He shifted his sights to the window, and his reflection that so blatantly sat lifeless beside him. “You’re so delicate with your words.”

But she’d never be delicate with him, and he admired that. She chuckled. “Look, give her credit. I know the trial wasn’t easy on either of you, but, the last time I saw her she asked me if you were okay. She would probably be more understanding than you think."

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, but neither do you. You haven’t seen her, Neji, and she’s been worried...she might need you, you know.”

He did not, and his very core tensed at the idea. He hadn’t considered _that_ , though he supposed anyone beside him would have. He’d been too mired in himself to even _think_ it, and his lungs suddenly felt shaky in his chest.

“Maybe your instincts were right the first time, Neji.”

He raised his eyebrows, watching the person in the reflection do the same. He tasted his meal: rice, salad, cabbage – salmon and spice. “Sure.”

“All I’m saying is that it doesn’t hurt.”

That wasn’t something he knew for certain, though he felt childish at shirking from things because they might _hurt._ “You’ve made your point.”

“I know! Just be patient and, I don’t know, take up a hobby. Learn to crochet.”

He snorted at the image. He faintly smiled, returning his eyes to her. “I’ll try.”

“And, hey! Since you have free time, and I’m getting fired tomorrow –”

“– no you’re not –”

“I’ll also be really bored, we can learn hobbies together and make Lee jealous.”

Neji laughed – the feeling was foreign, but he was grinning around it, hands clasped looser now. “On the unlikely chance you’re right, then fine – we can crochet.”

Tenten grinned big and careless – looking much too inflated for such a small victory. “Good! Lee will get jealous.”

Neji looked down to his meal, at the empty plate. He looked up just as quickly. “Hopefully,” then softer, “Thank you.”

Their food was finished between them, and Neji raised his hand to gain the attention of the short, brown haired waitress passing by.

Her smile subdued itself as the waitress approached. “Of course, Neji. ”

Neji handed over paper and coin to the waitress, politely nodding toward her as she departed. Tenten was already stacking her plates, and he did the same. They said nothing as they did so, and stood to leave –

Maybe he should visit Hinata, he thought idly as they made their way to the door. The single door opened up at his pushing and the quiet trickle of rain filled his ears. He unfurled the wrap around the umbrella, once again stepping out into the rain with Tenten at his side.

“Let me walk you.” He offered, looking down the street. The backs of several umbrellas made their way away from them. “Where are you headed?”

She grabbed his elbow lightly, a slight gesture to pull them toward the left of the main street. He followed the guidance. “Just up to the offices, if you don’t mind.”

He hummed. “More errands?”

“Yep, and to clear out the cobwebs,” she added with a laugh. “Where are you headed?”

He knew what she wanted the answer to be. “Just back home…”

“So you really don’t want to see your cousin?”

He pressed his lips, more in annoyance than true discomfort. “Ten…”

She continued. “Not even to see how she’s doing?”

_Maybe..._

They rounded a corner, nearing the avenue where the Chunin offices lived. “Okay.”

“Wait, what was that?”

He was annoyed but her tone, her joy, was enough to make him not care in that moment. “I said _okay._ ”

She giggled quietly. There wasn’t really a debate or true conflict except his reservations, and not for the last time did he quietly feel thankful for her calm judgement. 

She bumped her elbow against his, and their stroll was finally bringing them to the footstep of the Chunin Proctors offices. There were three concrete steps that lead up to a large wooden double door, and Neji walked her up to it with the protection of his umbrella.

“Your enthusiasm is amazing, you know?”

He had also heard this, many times before. He chuckled, watching as she dug around and procured her keys once more. “I’m clearly enthused by your decisions for me, Ten.”

She was sifting through them, until she reached a faded bronze one. She glanced at him with warmth, maybe with something like pride in his conclusion. “I know you are.”

She opened the door, pushing them inward, and he glanced into the dark, empty space, normally busy and loud. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Neji. But it comes at a price!”

Neji’s smile mellowed out to a still-satisfied shape. “And what might that be?”

“I need a dummy for my new explosives collection.”

Tenten’s friendship was easy like air. “And if I’m not fast enough?”

She just laughed, shutting the door behind her.

~

Neji didn’t feel particularly strong about his renewed choice to see Hinata, to approach his old family house and the cousin he’d spent months avoiding –but the thought of Hinata _needing_ him... 

He wouldn’t be able to rest unless he went to see for himself. Seeing Hinata, apologizing or making stilted conversation with her – 

Whichever she needed. He’d neglected many things, but this should never have been one of them.

The rain had returned – possibly, the last of the season, right before it would all turn to snow and blanket Konoha in a sleepy, white haze. He walked under the cover of his umbrella as he set down the same path back to that house, but it didn’t save him from the rain’s renewed vigour, or the reckless spattering of the wet air.

Faster than he liked, or wanted, he and his half soaked pant legs arrived at the gate of the estate. He’d tasted bile earlier in the morning, but nothing like the acid that stirred against his tongue now.

Neji took hesitating steps down the path till he was right at the gates threshold.

He had a lot of time to think about this place, and the corridors within that were now empty of Branch family. He could feel the weight of the air, and now that he had gotten used to true freedom, how his sanity could have ever survived this place was a mystery.

But he was _fine_.

He drew in a shaky breath – Hinata and Hanabi were the only ones left.

The Elders were gone, his Grandfather – gone.

Hiashi, and all the other hateful members of the Main Family, were _gone_. Incarcerated, or dead, or runaways... 

All were gone except for the woman who made it possible.

He’d failed her, too.

Neji swallowed against his dry, brittle throat and walked through the ornate entrance. The cold air parted around him. A first glance showed little had changed – there was still a well maintained lawn, still a long and austere path, still a curated rock-scape that looked sunken and dark grey in the downpour. It was all the same, memory and present as one.

The evil feeling was still there as well, though Neji didn’t expect it to vacate as his family did. Neji thought that maybe it would have become deserted, now that the objects of torment no longer lived there to haunt.

He reached the end of the rain greyed walkway. The last time he was here, he’d fled so quickly, so urgently –

He swallowed. He didn’t expect to be back so soon.

He didn’t, actually, expect to be back at all. Staring up the stairs and the door, he didn’t _want_ to approach it.

Luckily, he did not have to – it opened, sliding wood on wood grains that grew soft from the rain, and Hanabi met him with a similarly surprised expression.

Her opal eyes held no secrets and widened in curiosity. “Neji?”

He smiled from beneath his umbrella, staring up and through the rain. “Hanabi, it’s nice to see you.”

She smiled a bit at the sentiment, further opening the door to stand in it. It was invitingly open, and she leaned against it’s frame. “It’s a surprise to see you.”

He nodded passively. “Is Hinata here?”

“You could have just looked?” She said. As if in example, she quickly flashed her byakugan, veins around her eyes tensing visibly.

Neji frowned. He hated that habit. “I’d rather ask.”

She nodded, small movements accompanied with a thoughtful look. “That’s kind. Yes, she’s here – in fact, she just got back from the Inuzuka’s.”

He smiled. Maybe she was faring better than he feared. “This is fortunate timing, then. Is she available? I’m not planning on staying long, but I would like to speak with her.”

Hanabi smiled broadly. “You don’t have to ask to come into your own house.”

She stepped back into the hallway, gesturing for him to come in. He didn’t have the heart to tell her this was not his home, so he closed his umbrella and followed her in without a word, shutting the door behind him.

The place had always been dead – people lived in it, slept in it, cleaned and cared for it, but it felt just as empty then as it did now. The hallways sucked in light and thoughts, empty except for the way they _observed_ , ever watchful.

He toed off his sandals in the walkway before following Hanabi to the left and down the corridor. Everything was loud in such a still place, and he padded away noisily on the cold floors, a dripping umbrella in hand.

“Thank you.”

He was mildly surprised to note some changes as he walked down the halls, peering into rooms on the left as he passed them. New wall paintings where before there were none, rooms that were once offices or meditation or bedrooms now cleared and replaced with shelves, books –

“It’s no problem, Neji.”

She brought him to the end of the hall, turning right and then left again – it was a useless maze. “She’s been renovating, so you may not recognize everything.”

Impossible, but he wished it was true.

“And your thoughts on that aren’t positive?”

She shrugged in front of him. “I suppose they’re not negative.”

He was guilty of wanting change, and guiltier that her life had changed too much. He just nodded, knowing what indecision felt like and that it didn’t need any prodding.

“It doesn’t really matter… but it’s an odd adjustment,” she added.

He was never going to know them, but he was certain she had her own wounds too.

“It is,” he said back, eyes focused on her feet as she led them.

They walked up to a double door, on the right wall deeper within the estate. The sliding door was more ornate, with golden notes of decoration around the edges.

Neji tensed, the familiarity of their destination setting his nerves on edge – they were at the footstep of the old sparring room.

Hanabi turned to him, tucking a lock of stray hair behind her ear.

“Here,” she said with a polite smile, already making to go back the same direction. “I’m leaving for training, so I wont be here when you leave. It was nice to see you, Neji.”

“It’s good to see you too.”

She left him down the same path, and soon he was alone, with Hinata on the other side. They were both aware of each other, and stalling did him no favors.

He opened the door, slid it away. His eyes slowly crawled over the expansive space, a living room that mirrored nothing of its prior use.

The wood of the floors looked fresh, a replacement mahogany that shone bright and redder than the rest of the house. In the middle of the floor was a long, grey rug, and on top of it were two sofas. On the far end, facing him, was an open window that looked out to the back yard.

That window certainly hadn’t been there before, framing the tree outside as it’s patchy, leafless branches shook against the harsher elements.

Hinata was standing at the long wall of bookshelves that lined the left wall. The shelves were home to old books, scrolls, pictures in frames, and an assortment of decorations like statues and art. He saw familiar literature, recognized them by their spines and knew clan knowledge was held within – 

This room was not the one of his childhood, though he and Hinata stood within it now as they did once upon a time, staring in a type of stand off all the same.

Hinata watched him with a soft, weary look. She was dressed like he might have expected if she had come back from seeing her fiance – her dark blue dress came down to her knees, and the long sleeves and wrapping collar sported golden buttons.

He thought he should say something, but she smiled and said something first. “Brother.”

He felt so choked up, the words barely came out. “Hinata.”

Her pink-tinted lips turned upward. She left the bookcase just to join him, and his chest clenched when she brought him into a hug, one he had to lean into. He might have expected it if he had thought ahead, but he didn’t and he was left wondering why his arms wouldn’t return the sentiment fast enough.

He brought his arms up to fit around her waist, finally, and her happy sigh of approval almost helped to alleviate the fretting feeling of apprehension blanketing his heart.

“I’ve missed you,” she said. Her hands hooked around his neck, his hair, and even though she always had an air of doubt around her (one she had long since halved since her genin days), she sounded so certain. So assured, except when, “I – I thought maybe…”

He squeezed around her ribs, and so quickly had he gone from being unable to face her, to needing her like he needed air.

She trembled, ever so slightly, in his arms. “I thought maybe – maybe you were mad with me...”

He shook his head, and silently urged them to return to facing each other. He looked down to her – maybe she had gone through a lot in the time since the trials, maybe they hadn’t seen each other–

But she looked like she was doing well, and the swelling feeling in Neji’s heart was so foreign and big and full, it felt good even if it was cracking some ribs in the process. His eyes grew grey and sad at the words, though, and his eyes dodged hers, settling on the broach on the cloth above her clavicle.

“I haven’t given you a reason to think otherwise… though it may not mean much now,” and he wonders how long it took for the dust to settle before she realized he wasn’t there to help clean it – “I’m not mad.”

She nodded, bringing his attention up again. “I’m glad to hear that. I – _we_ haven’t… not since the trial.”

The dust probably wouldn’t settle for a while – her voice still shook around the word _trial_ , and he understood well what feeling lived in her heart.

“It’s my fault,” he said. She was quietly directing them back to the sitting area, the couches sat opposite of each other with a small coffee table to separate. 

“I didn’t see you when you came to take the picture of uncle,” she said across the table. She rested her hands on top of her knees, glancing off to her left, to the window and the way nature was framed so beautifully in it. “I’ve been so… so _worried_ about you.”

He looked out to the same deluge. He was probably lucky his timing had brought him here, during the worst of nature’s moods. The tree shook, the wind whistled past the window – water carried down the flower beds near the far wall, and he couldn’t take his eyes off it.

He knew when he came here that having pretenses wouldn’t work. They shared too much, and the trial dug up a lot out of them both – pretending there were other reasons to be here, making small talk, it didn’t _work_.

“You’re not the first to express that sentiment.”

“I– know… at least, I think I do. It’s just so… hard, not to say it. Especially since it’s been so long…”

And he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t keep himself from asking, “Did you feel as lost as I did?”

Hinata considered it, but said nothing.

“When the trial was over?” The trial. The hours of deliberations, with strangers peering in so it couldn’t be ignored or shunted off to the side. The way an entire life of memories was written into a few pieces of paper. “Did you find yourself lost?”

“I did… I – still do, Neji.”

Maybe the curse seal never marred her skin – but they lived two sides to the same coin, and knew better than any how the other felt. Neither of them had choices, both of them had each other for enemies, and, finally, at long last, they had each other like nestlings try to leave their tree at each other’s bidding.

Now they sat, two flightless birds, wondering why the ground hurt so much.

“I guess I should have had better instincts to think you would be faring any better…”

She made a small sound – agreement she didn’t want to say.

“I fear I’ve caused a great deal of damage to my life, Hinata – by accident, and now I’ve let myself...”

Gods, was it hard – he didn’t want to say how cold he’s grown, how mean he can be...

“I’ve… admired your soft heart, Hinata… Perhaps if I had that kindness, it would be different.”

Hinata always had that inherent strength in her – she had been hurt too much, and yet she wasn’t capable of dealing out any type of pain, instead only becoming stronger through her kindness.

“Neji… you flatter me so much… please don’t speak so highly of me, and so low of yourself.”

Neji crossed his legs, rolling his ankle just to keep from tapping his toes against the edge of the table. He leaned back into the cushion, anything but comfortable. “It is what I see, it is not flattery.”

She smiled, but there was an edge. Her round eyes were foggy. “Why are you here? I’m happy to see you, but…”

He didn’t want to answer – it was lodged against the back of his tongue, knotting it with words like _I’m lost_ and _I’m sorry_ . Words like _I want to beg to be forgiven_.

“I felt like I should be here. Maybe not here _,”_ he looked around, glancing at the surrounding walls, the window. “But here, with you…”

The rain fell heavier against the window, and a deep rumble of thunder came.

If there’s ever a time to say it, it was then. His stomach twisted. “I’m sorry. I’m –” the knot in his tongue loosened, and he swallowed. “I’m _sorry_ . I haven’t been here, I haven’t _helped_ you!” 

Hinata always cried easily – now was not the exception, and she made a small sound, a hiccup –

The knot was loose, and he held it in his clenched hands. “I’ve spoken so strongly about this family, the hatred and everything it’s caused – I’ve hated it so much it’s – it’s a seed, it’s grown alongside me for my life and now that this place of hatred is finally _gone_ …! I’ve – I’ve abandoned it. I know I have, and I am fine with that, but I didn’t mean to abandon _you_.”

“I’m – sorry. Hinata, I’m _sick_ with apology, I don’t know how to tell you and make you believe… I certainly would not believe me, but I mean it…! I’m cutting everything off, and that includes you, and I don’t _want_ that! Yet I keep doing it. And now I have caused you so much grief – I had thought I was done with that, that perhaps I had grown into someone more mature and worthy of – _giving_ , not living in animosity and hoping it would make something better out of _… this!_ But… I haven’t.”

He hadn’t – he ran, swiftly, away from house and home alike.

“I… I caused you pain when we were genin, Hinata – I caused you pain when I spoke upon your father so openly – I caused you pain when I repaid your gracious love of your cousins and uncles and aunts with… _this_ ,” and he stood up – his body burned, hot like a forest fire blazing in summer. 

He burned, and the room felt too bright – he had to _leave_ , had to cut himself off before anything else might make it past –

“Neji!”

He was at the door.

“Wait!”

He was down the hall, but he felt how close she was. He turned the corner of the ill lit hallway, too long and too narrow. He reached the door, sliding it open with too much force –

The rain was thunderous and heavy, and he didn’t care that he left the umbrella on the couch because leaving _now_ was more important than ever –

Rain hit his face as he descended the stairs. A cold shock ran down his body, and –

Her delicate fingers on his shoulder were _strong_ , digging like a scared cat does to the branch it doesn’t want to fall from. 

His breath was loud in his ears, the rain was thunderous like static, and Hinata’s quivering sniffling matched.

He couldn’t turn around, not like she wanted –

She tugged at him, begging him to face her. “Neji!”

Gods, when did he become so weak? He felt himself failing, unable to keep himself from the tears gathering on his eyelashes. They started to fall, delicate composure washed away, what little he had since the morning that turned into…

He clenched his teeth against it.

Hinata’s hands followed down the lines of his arm, then grabbed his hand tight. She pulled again – 

His freed hand came up to his mouth, rain carving paths down his knuckles, blurring his vision as they caught in his eyelashes–

Hinata was insistent, tugging against the stiff resistance that made his body immovable stone. Urging him to _listen_. And he did – automatically, like his training, because he couldn’t say no to her.

Tears gathered at his hand, where he could still taste them even with the rain. He hadn’t cried so freely, so against his own will, in so long, and when he turned, through his haze, he could see Hinata.

She was crying too, makeup running in the rain and her own tears.

He reached out first, ducking his head into the embrace, into the shoulders he was wrapped around that shook so much. Her arms snaked around his chest, around his back, with the bruising strength of a snake.

He kissed the side of her head, against wet hair – it might have been the only time he had done it, had shown her so much of himself, had even attempted to share. But it was all in bitterness and mending wounds and –

Would they ever heal? Between them, would it ever stop bleeding?

“Neji!” She said against his chest, _squeezing_ . “I did it for _us_ ! I did it because of _me_ – I-I couldn’t do anything – when we were young. Not when Hanabi – when she was the one father _chose_! I couldn’t stop anything I had seen and when I could –”

Her nails were claws in his back – shaking, shaking, shaking. “I d-don’t know how you think I’d want you to comfort _me_...”

“– I almost k–”

“We were 12…! You made amends. I don’t need any more, you’ve apologized enough.”

“Hinata – you’re apologizing to me when I haven’t even thanked y–”

“I didn’t expect you to. I didn’t _need_ you to. I expected you to be mad, and I expected you to deal with it on your own. You always have…”

“Hinata… perhaps you don’t understand what I’m trying to say – I’m trying to –”

“I forgive you.”

He felt like he was too late to escape the diameter of a paper bomb – torn apart, in just a split second.

He pulled back, _fast_ . He held her by the shoulders, staring down into her bleary eyes. He didn’t know what he was _looking_ for, but he found it – the lack of hate, the pure presence of kindness and despair. The whites of her eyes were reddened, and the tears in them carried down mascara onto her cheeks till it gathered at her chin.

They both were a mess. He’d found himself closer to her in the past years – and the fate they both shared, the home they both shared, it was all the same.

It was the same punishment the Hyuuga clan dealt out to anyone deemed unworthy – even the main branch couldn’t avoid such a stain, and Hinata bore it well. She bore the weight and shame, just as she bore the guilt he had placed on her his entire life.

Something they’d both shared, that had broken them, was alive between them– he didn’t have the eyes to see it before, to see how similar they were. Not until she was crying and offering him forgiveness.

His chest clenched, constricted around vines that had died around his heart, just to be replaced with new growth. He didn’t know if it was happiness or contempt –

“Neji…”

His eyes had been clouded – his vision, so narrow and dull, but he knew, now, why he came here. He knew that drawing feeling that had pulled him from the hole he made in his house, in his own pity, and forced him to be _here_.

His hands, he didn’t realize how much tension and energy was built up in them – how they were tight around her shoulders, her upper arms, how she didn’t even fight the painful grip.

He relaxed. His heart still hurt, still felt too fast and too slow, but he _relaxed._

“Hinata…” He rubbed her arms, up and down, like he might have if he’d been soothing a wound with treatment. “I forgive you.”

There was nothing to forgive, but he knew it was what she needed.

She started sobbing, and he tucked her back into the safety of his chest. He held her head, her tears quickly lost in the dampness of his sweater.

“You did what no one else could do for me…you’ve given me my freedom,” he whispered into her ear – louder than even the rain. It didn’t matter what he did with that freedom, what he hurt or who he pulled into his selfishness. She didn’t need to know that. She did what others failed to do, what his family failed to do – 

What Konoha failed to do, failing to invoke the name and will of fire for their very own.

She gave him hope, and she thought he was resentful of that...

“I didn’t think fate had a life waiting for me,” he whispered.

She cried harder into his chest, and he let her.

He kissed the top of her head again, holding her strong, taking comfort in giving comfort.

The rain fell around them, drowned out the seconds that must have turned into minutes, but their embrace lasted strong through it all.

He wanted nothing more than for _this_ wound to heal.

_No more apologies…_

“Hinata… I have a proposition.”

She nodded a silent yes, and he continued. “From here on out, let’s no longer apologize to each other.”

She pulled away, still within the hold of his arms, and looked at him. Her smile inspired one from him. “Yes… I-I’d like that very much, brother.”

The guilt of being Hyuuga, it was inescapable. It was blood deep, a parasitic plant of generations that feasted on them from within. It spiraled deep and hungry, digging root deep in attempts to strangle whatever it found.

But there was new growth, too, rising from places Neji thought were dead. Maybe from that, there would be new life, new possibilities and stories instead of old, bitter memories.

Maybe they’d be able to tell new stories.

He desperately hoped they might be able to speak of those new stories, between each other – and he hoped that the new peace blooming between them, the way, for the first time, there was no ill intent living in their house -- that it was enough to air out the hurt between them like Hinata had done with their family home…

He was certain that they would be able to create something better _together_ –

Neji almost choked on the thought, he craved it so much.

~

Neji stayed with Hinata far longer than he had intended, though time passed so easily for them that he didn’t mind. She had shown him the changes to the house, the renovations still underway, and even the change of the inner courtyard that, once a private training field, was now a pond with fish and a small strolling path. There was so much work to be done, but she wanted something better, something new, for their house.

“It was so cold before, but… maybe now we can bring some warmth,” she said, watching the water ripple on the pond as the rain started to wane. 

He might never feel that, but he believed those who came next would feel it. With Hinata at the head of their family, curating a place that might feel lived in and cared for, not at all like it was watching him back, it was possible Hyuuga children might even come to enjoy such a home.

And then, finally, the rain passed, and they spoke over tea, and then parted ways with a promise to stay in touch. Her eyes were lighter, and Neji thought his might have looked the same, mirrored in hers.

It was 4:30 before he left home in the light rain, and later, half way between his old house and his home, that he decided to grab takeout for dinner. It was the easiest option – Shikamaru never said no to soba and barbecue.

He was walking down the wet streets, the sun long lost behind the heavy cloud cover, making the long day finally draw to a swift night. The plastic bag in his hands was hefty with grain and meat, spattered with rain droplets.

His eyes shadowed over, and he held the bag closer to his chest, one hand underneath to stabilize the styrofoam contents that swished around heavily.

He felt uneasy again – he might have managed to forget the promise of earlier, but he was reminded of Shikamaru, of _we’ll talk later_ , and the nervous hum in his heart returned again.

Neji was closer to his neighborhood.

He clutched the plastic bag in hand at the feeling – he hadn’t felt nervous around Shikamaru in a long time, not since they were kids. Not since the first time they had sparred, or shared a mission, just the two of them ...

He sighed at himself, looking off sheepishly into the distance. People from the neighborhood were walking to and from work, too distracted by the rain to pay him any mind.

He neared their street. He took a left turn, passing the vendors and little shops that decorated his corner, passing the shrine in the park that he sometimes pays visits to –

His stomach ached at the thought of talking with _Shikamaru_. How had he come to feel nervous of the one he loves most?

He rounded the corner, turned left into the alley of oddly placed buildings that were a blend of the old Konoha and the new, re-imagined Konoha. Old storefronts, with faded green and yellow signs, dispersed between newer apartments that let out to the streets, all obscured in the haze of rain.

He spotted the green frog statue further down, the one Naruto gave Shikamaru as a placeholder gift.

_Gods, the housewarming…_

It was over a month past – could they even call it that, any more?

Neji didn’t have time to contemplate the time that had passed or the way he was not looking forward to a party. He was two houses down from their door and the little frog when he spotted Shikamaru coming from the other direction.

He was scowling, looking up at the sky – soaked, ponytail falling flat, his flak jacket a deep green from the rainfall.

They both stopped to look at each other and their fortunate timing, a two houses distance separating them from their front door.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes after a second, and quickly trotted up to meet him just in front of their door. “Well look at us,” he said, feet coming to a stand still on the wet, reflective street. He smiled, all too satisfied with what Neji was holding.

Neji tilted the open bag forward. “Your timing is good,” he said, smiling at the hungry look in Shikamaru’s eyes. “I might have had it all if you didn’t show up.”

Shikamaru laughed, rolling his eyes again as he popped open the topmost container. “Don’t joke like that, I’m starving.”

Up close, in the last of the trickling rain, he looked content – tired, yes, with circles under his eyes, and even in the rain the scent of tobacco radiated off him, but the light in his eyes was anything but dull.

He stared at Shikamaru as he fell into a silence, eating bites of chicken dumplings. 

He smiled – Shikamaru always glowed bright, in moments like this, when he was content...

“What?” Shikamaru said, chewing another bite. “What’s wrong?”

A lot of things were wrong, but this wasn’t one of them. “You’re eating my chicken.”

Shikamaru looked relieved – but it was quickly replaced with the same annoyance he saw moments before. He swallowed, closing the seal of the food. 

“Fine, since you’re not sharing. Come on,” he tilted his head toward their door. “I’m freezing and I broke my umbrella.”

They approached their door, Shikamaru being kind enough to fish around for his keys so Neji could hold their food.

Neji didn’t bother asking how he broke it. “Why didn’t you borrow one from Naruto?”

He laughed. “And what makes you think he remembered to have one?”

Neji laughed, following Shikamaru in.

Neji set out food for the living room under the lowlight of the corner lamp, where it was warm. Shikamaru changed out of his boots, his jacket -- replaced his undershirt with a temporary because he refused to do any more until they ate.

Their meal was fast, and it was like the morning Shikamaru had departed from was a completely different day than the one they were having. Neji caught Shikamaru looking at him with an odd glint of reverence, of biding time, floating in his eyes, but they talked easily about their days and it was pleasant like Neji had hoped for.

Neji spoke about running into Tenten, about seeing Hinata – in so few words, and Shikamaru must have known he was not sharing the whole truth. But nothing came of it, and Shikamaru never spoke on it or asked for more details.

Neji stood to clean, to move the empty plates from the coffee table and clear the containers. Shikamaru pulled him away, took his hand first then his elbow till he was close enough to speak between their lips. “Later.”

“Shi–”

His fingers spread over his shoulders, pulling himself in and kissing his ear. “Hmm… Just go run a bath for us.”

“Okay…”

Shikamaru pressed a quick peck to his lips again, eyes open. “Yeah, I’m frozen -- help warm me up.”

The nervous energy that earlier gathered in his stomach was back and he felt at a loss, like Shikamaru stole his equilibrium. His lilac eyes were wide, he just nodded and accepted the satisfied hum Shikamaru gave him before he went up stairs. 

~

Neji had the water running hot and full in their small bathroom. The tub was opposite of the door, beside the small column of a sink that had enough ledge space for votives and their toothbrushes.

He ran the water, and set aside soft white towels, and pulled the soaps from under the counter to set on the porcelain of the tub.

The water rushing the pipes in their older home rumbled loudly– not loud enough to distract Neji from his thoughts, but loud all the same.

He stood near the side of the tub nearest the drain and faucet, clothed in grey briefs and nothing more. He had pulled out shampoo bottles from under the sink, holding them in thought instead of setting them out.

It was unreasonable to feel on edge – yet here he was.

It was only a minute later before Shikamaru opened the door, and he was wearing grey shorts that were also Neji’s, holding a candle. It looked romantic, but Shikamaru isn’t a romantic in the classic sense– and this wasn’t what he imagined when Shikamaru said they would _talk_.

“You look surprised.”

Neji swallowed, returning to setting out shampoos and soap. “I thought I’d wait to find out, I suppose…”

“Hmm,” he walked up behind him, to the edge of the sink that held space for incense and a flint lighter. He rested a hand on Neji’s hip, only to move him out of the way. “You make it sound like I’m being cryptic.”

“Perhaps it’s because you’re being cryptic.”

Shikamaru lit the candle on the faucet side of the tub, setting the silver lighter down beside it. “I don’t know about that.”

Shikamaru disrobed, and Neji followed, setting their clothes aside on the floor.

“It’s just nice like this, I think. Come on,” he urged, fingers glancing at Neji’s hand as he stepped into the water. He let out a satisfied groan before sitting down in the warm water. 

Neji sank down into the water, warming the bone-cold feeling that clung to him the entire day. He twisted the faucet, turned it off now that the water was lapping at their navels.

Neji’s hair was pulled up into a carefully wrapped bun, and Shikamaru’s was undone, falling around his shoulders. Shikamaru’s legs spread long around him, pressed against his sides solidly, firmly, under the glowing water, accommodating the bow of the tub that let them sit so comfortably together.

For a long while, the only sound in the small room was just the gentle rocking, back and forth, of the steaming water around their hips.

Neji wasn’t upset with this turn of events, wasn’t unhappy at all – but whatever lied beneath the waters was still present, still on the edge of tongue and mind.

Shikamaru reached forward, briefly pressing into the space between them till there was none, and grabbed the cup at the left side of the tub. While he was at it, he pressed his lips against Neji’s shoulders before pulling back.

“As nice as this is…”

“Lemme guess, you think somethings up.” His voice against his neck was warm, deep and rumbling against his skin.

Neji hissed a sigh of relief a second later when water cascaded down his back, followed by the warmth of Shikamaru’s lathered hands. They traveled low on his back, one softly caressing his skin with a hot washcloth.

“Would I be wrong?”

Shikamaru’s hands wandered to his sides, to the crease between thigh and leg – pulled him closer, till there was only a little bit of space to fill with water. His lips returned to Neji’s skin, to his neck. “No, can’t say you’d be wrong.”

_Ah…_

Neji’s muscles, from his head to his toes, tensed – not in an unfamiliar way, just enough to confuse. “Shikamaru…”

His lips, the hum escaping from them – the way Shikamaru’s hand’s walked up his sides, washing him with radiating warmth – it was too close to a limit that he didn’t even know he had. 

“So, Shikamaru, what’s your plan?” Neji whispered – anything else felt too loud, and he closed his eyes. “Seduce me, get me to crack open?”

“Who knows, maybe…”

“I didn’t think this is what you meant when you insisted we talk.”

“Insisted? That’s a strong word. Maybe I just wanted to see you…”

Shikamaru chuckled behind him, and that was it. He let his hands drop.

For a little while, they just sat there, soaking up the surrounding warmth – taking comfort in the feeling of each other. Neji took a small cloth, wet it, and cleaned the day and grief from his face, from his under eyes, from his lips. Shikamaru did the same behind him, but he paid it little mind.

It was pleasant – there was something on the horizon, but Neji’s fear of it was gone. Maybe the heat pulled it from his bones, just like it did the cold –

Maybe he was tired enough that he didn’t quite care.

And, then, finally, after a few minutes. “I’m going to be honest with you, Neji.”

Neji almost laughed– when in Shikamaru’s life had he ever not spoken from his heart? Shikamaru’s hands were back on his skin, lingering low on his back and beneath the water. He leaned into their space, kissing lightly up the side of Neji’s spine, up his neck – narrowly avoiding the sensitive area of his blind spot. 

He hovered over his right shoulder blade in wait.

“I’m worried about you.” Shikamaru breathed, speaking in sighs, like he’d break the room otherwise.

The air in Neji’s lungs trembled out.

“I know,” he whispered on the shaky inhale.

Being naked, having Shikamaru surrounding him – it was lighting up his nerves in a way he’d missed, turning every part of him pliant under Shikamaru’s hands. He was waking up every inch of his body, and when he breathed on his neck –

He wanted too much – and none of it was _words_...

“I feel like I’ve been playing at a stalemate…”

Neji checked his breathing – his lungs fluttered on the exhale. “Shikamaru…”

Shikamaru kissed his back again, and need rose from Neji in a heatwave. “I’m _worried_ ,” he whispered again.

“I –” Shikamaru came close to that spot _again_ . “I _know_. I wish I could change that for you...”

Maybe he _could._   
  
Neji’s hand was idling on Shikamaru’s thighs – it was _too_ much again, too harsh, and he rubbed circles into Shikamaru’s soft skin –

“Shikamaru…” He said, trying to turn around.

Shikamaru stopped him, hands firm around the muscles of his back, his shoulders. “You do _this_ , too, you know?”

He raised his hands up Shikamaru’s thighs, since he couldn’t _move_...

“You use sex like this –”

Neji stiffened, stopped the creeping crawl of his hands – but Shikamaru just shushed him, and rolled his thumbs over the tight muscles underhanded. “You only talk to me at night, you know that? Try to sleep with me when you decide talking’s too much effort.”

Shikamaru’s hands trailed down both arms to rest on his elbows, ever guiding, holding. Neji didn’t have a will to stop it, not when his skin felt alive and his mind blissfully emptied, a pitcher slowly being turned over till the contents were messy and over the floor.

Neji _knew_ what Shikamaru was doing, but there wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to ask him to _stop_ …

“And you know, I notice you’ve been trying to… apologize to me. Like this,” he said with a kiss, wet and louder than anything else in the room, crushing that pitcher that so slowly emptied. “I haven’t _touched_ you like this in _weeks_.”

His lips, trailing lower, lingered over Neji’s blind spot, and _there_ was the point he’d realized how much he wanted, how much he didn’t want to stop

How much, even with the tight lock of his lips that would rather rust than open, he needed Shikamaru. 

But it could easily be picked loose, if only the right lips knew the right places –

_“Hnnn…!”_ Another kiss, lapping at such a sensitive spot, and he strained against the hold Shikamaru had on his arms. “Gods – what are – _why?_ ”

Shikamaru laughed, didn’t stop at all – but he squeezed the muscle around Neji’s biceps, an acknowledgement, knowing what he was really asking.

Neji’s thighs trembled, open between him, water between him and the cage of Shikamaru’s thighs – not an ounce of friction to be made or found. Shikamaru’s breath over the sensitive spot of skin, the blind spot that no one had ever touched –

It was nearly too much, turning a slow crawl of heat into a fire.

“ _Shika – ah –_ ”

“I keep seeing you use _this_ for the wrong things. This isn’t for _that_.”

“And what – might _that_ be?”

“ _Apologies_ – making amends, whatever it is you do when we’re together.”

“ _Gods,”_ he said with sharp admonishment, hating that Shikamaru could feel each repressed shiver, “– and what about – what you’re doing _right now_?”

“What am I doing?”

“ _Making a point –”_

Neji hissed around a small sound rising in his throat, Shikamaru’s lips finally pressed to that _spot_ , a light suction forming.

All at once he tensed, his spine taut with _want_. His legs would have buckled, he thought, if he’d been anywhere but sitting, legs pressed against Shikamaru’s and the solid reassurance of his hands securely on his elbows.

Shikamaru hummed against him, warm vibrations carried out on skin, and his eyes squeezed shut at the sensation. He didn’t anticipate this, didn’t know what to say or what to think –

His mind was nearing a place of emptiness, one he loved to live in but rarely asked for – at least, these days, because Shikamaru was _right_.

Neji’s hands rested on Shikamaru’s knees, candle light smooth around the both of them – he was shaking, so taken apart and with so little…

“Yeah, maybe I’m making a point –” Shikamaru muttered against him, nose and lips and the scruff he hadn’t had the chance to shave, featherlight against his sensitive skin.

Shikamaru let go of his elbows, dropped his hands into the water and rested them on Neji’s hips again–

“I want you here with me,” he said against the shell of his ear. “I want to _talk_...”

His hands squeezed, Neji shivered back into the touch – he wanted the same thing. 

Shikamaru’s lips parted, soft against the back of his neck in the place he knew could shatter Neji in mere seconds. “Trust me…”

Neji sighed, hitched up around a half syllable. “I do …”

“Hmmm…”

How had he let himself fall so far away from Shikamaru that his warm intimacies, like silent kisses – how had they become _foreign_ ? He didn’t know, and beyond making him frustrated, or angry, or any other abstract feeling – he grew _sad._

He’d pulled so far away, and intimacies like gentle affections brought him to tremble...

“You’re shaking,” Shikamaru whispered, before snaking his arms gingerly around his abdomen and urging the both of them to lean back. His hands trailed like fire till they trapped the heat in his naval. Too easily, too obediently, Neji complied till he was flush against Shikamaru once again.

They leaned back, weight against the gentle incline of the porcelain, and he found himself easily slotted into the space carved out for him in Shikamaru’s embrace. Shikamaru shifted his hips, tilted his head to the side so his lips were aligned with Neji’s ear. 

One arm laced under the weight of Neji’s and held his chest – strong, but gentle – anything else would have been too fast and heavy, and his other hand dropped from its home at Neji’s naval –

_How long had it been?_

Neji’s breath hitched – eyes tightly shut against the pressure of Shikamaru’s hand around him. He was hard, and the slight movements of Shikamaru’s fingers built a fire he couldn’t hope to extinguish.

“Come on,” Shikamaru urged – he squeezed, and Neji’s legs tried to close, tried to find a way to accommodate the ache in him that couldn’t find resistance in the water and the slick of the porcelain tub, but–

“Keep your legs open,” Shikamaru whispered, hand slowing, tightening. “Stay still for me.”

Neji whined back in his throat – nothing could smother it and he nodded _yes yes yes_.

Shikamaru moved his hand again, a slow upstroke. “I want to be close to you, and I’m never gonna use _this,_ ” and he squeezed Neji’s length, like he didn’t know what he was talking about, “– to make amends.”

Neji turned his head to the side, away from Shikamaru – “I – don’t try– to fuck you as an apology –”

Shikamaru held his chest tight and close with an open palm, keeping him still, and all it did was drive Neji’s legs forward, compel him to seek out more, to turn the tightening quiver of his muscles into _something_...

His left leg, he pushed it forward, because it was all he could do, the only purchase he had when he couldn’t move or close his legs or use his hands except to grip Shikamaru even tighter.

“You sure about that?” Shikamaru stopped the easy rhythm his hand found – he stopped, and rolled his thumb over the head of his dick with a _squeeze –_

Neji stiffened, muscles pulled taut, knocking the stopper from the drain with his heel– 

Shikamaru hummed, resuming the back and forth, the sound of water and splashing and cut-off moans filling the small space of their bathroom.

_He’s right..._

A sharp tension deep inside his hips, crawling up his thighs – “It’s – the only way I can–”

Shikamaru pulled him closer, though they were already close. And he didn’t stop, didn’t try to hold him on the edge like he always does when they have time for such things. His pace just picks up, because he _knows_ –

“ _Shikamaru –_ ” 

His head was empty of everything but Shikamaru’s voice, and he was so close –

“Come on, Neji – when you let me fuck you, it’s the only way for _what?”_

Another half cry came from Neji, shaken loose.

Shikamaru shifted around him, adjusting for a faster, tighter pace, and Neji’s head dipped back into the space of Shikamaru’s shoulder, skin buzzing at the feeling of his breath on his neck.

Shikamaru’s hand on his stomach held him still, but he was breathing hard, too –

“– it’s – all I have to _give you_ …!”

Shikamaru made a _tsk_ sound in the back of his throat.

“What makes you think I want that?”

_Nothing._ Nothing at all, and he didn’t want to say it. He shook his head _no_ , as best he could with the heat unfurling in his hips, his stomach, his --

“I don’t want to sleep with you because you’re _sorry_ . I want _this_ ,” he curled his hand, more pressure into his stroke, behind his palm. “I want _you_.”

“Hnnn –” Neji’s legs strained against the tight frame of Shikamaru’s thighs – the water splashing up against Neji was loud, the sound of the drain’s suction pulling on the rapidly lowering water–

Neji’s grip on Shikamaru’s knees shifted down, over the softness of his thighs until his grip reached muscle, and he seized there –

“Is that it? Right there?” Shikamaru whispered, heavy and hot breath ghosting Neji’s ear, his neck, the corner of his jaw – he found a rhythm, a pressure, too perfect, too tailored to _Neji_ , that Neji just nodded.

Neji pressed back harder than he should have, sinking into Shikamaru –

“That, _that_ – please, _please –!”_

He needed just a little more – a bit more speed, a bit more _something…_

Shikamaru’s lips on his neck opened up to tongue, scraping the spot just beneath his ear. He hummed, and the water was nearly gone.

Neji’s heavy breath, the whining break in the back of his throat finally breaking out into a loud moan – and between the two, the soft sound of skin on skin as he finally _snapped_ –

His nails dug into Shikamaru’s thighs, he pushed himself into Shikamaru’s lips, and he was spilling into Shikamaru’s hand.

“– _hhh_ –”

Shikamaru’s hand slowed, but didn’t stop – Neji twitched under the idle stroking, trying to regain his breath. He shivered from each slow stroke, enjoying the ripe, sharp feelings that came from it. It was the edge of too much, but his body felt so starved that he only wanted –

“ _More_ ,” he whispered, turning into Shikamaru’s neck. He let his hands relax and raised one of them to wrap around Shikamaru’s neck, fingers carding through his hair indelicately, taking shaky hold – tugging when he didn’t even mean to.

“More?” 

Neji nodded where his words failed. He pulled Shikamaru in by the crook of his arm, needing so much more than skin could give.

Shikamaru let go of his hold on Neji – left his dick aching and alone between his shaking thighs. Neji opened his mouth to complain, to beg, but Shikamaru already knew. “Lean forward for me, baby –”

Neji listened, canting forward and letting Shikamaru’s newly freed hands anchor themselves to his lower back. His hands returned to the natural, comfortable spot of Shikamaru’s knees.

“Stay still.”

He always did, but nodded anyway.

“Don’t touch yourself.”

Reluctantly, he nodded again, and Shikamaru hummed in agreement. “Good boy.”

The words never failed to bring a prideful flush to Neji’s cheeks, down his neck. And he felt warmer, woken up in his body from Shikamaru’s open mouth kisses on his back. He shivered – Shikamaru kissed everywhere except…

“Please…”

“I’ll take care of you,” Shikamaru’s lips ghosted over his left shoulder blade, near the mess of a scar that made mirrors foul. “Just stay here with me…”

Neji nodded, squeezing his eyes shut – like pain but so much better, with his heart in his throat and the quiver in his thighs he’d never be able to tame. He wasn’t even fully down, his skin was still raw with too much attention being given to it, and yet Shikamaru was already keying him back up –

Shikamaru sighed, tongue just _beside_ the blind spot, just off his spine, off map and unknown to anyone but Shikamaru…

Neji shivered. “I love – you – _hnnn._ ”

Shikamaru’s hold on his waist was so strong and sturdy, Neji couldn’t move his hands from the feeling, not even if he wanted to –

“I love you,” Shikamaru said into a kiss – Neji could rise and fall from the hidden place of his blindspot, always covered in robe or by the waterfall of his hair.

Shikamaru’s hands didn’t stray once from his hips, and neither did Neji’s from their hold of Shikamaru’s thighs –

Neji was already hard and falling apart, a rubber band pulling from the base of his hips to the top of his spine and dead ending in the back of his throat where he can’t do anything but stutter out vowels and sighs.

The candle burned softer around them, lighting up the corners of the walls, the tiles, the end of the space around them that was now emptied of water and filled with fidgeting legs. The shadows around them bent and shook, twisting around like tendrils of smoke – and maybe Shikamaru was just as affected as he was –

Neji was so close, and the sting of already spent nerves being brought to a helpless state yet again was nearly too much – but not enough to wring the curiosity and need from him –

He had some control left in him, that hadn’t been siphoned out by lips and kisses, and he quietly used his byakugan while he still could.

The world quickly turned into blacks and whites and some sort of gradient in between. He saw his legs, the candle perched on the far edge of the tub; he watched as the shadows dipped and pulled around them – he witnessed the tremors shaking him from the shoulders down, and he saw Shikamaru’s closed eyes as he caused those tremors.

Shikamaru’s eyes were closed, relaxed except for the fluttering of eyelashes – lips parting and opening just to lick across his blind spot –

Shikamru opened his eyes, a slit, and he removed himself just to raise his attention to Neji’s neck, his ear. “You watching me?”

Neji nodded, meant to say something, but Shikamaru’s right hand came up to the spot he was just kissing, and his thumb took its place.

Instead, all that came out was another embarrassingly loud moan, and Shikamaru laughed into his neck, pressing his thumb in circles, massaging with wet hands that dripped down–

“Keep watching, Neji –”

There wasn’t a lot Neji could do, it had gone on for too long, and when Shikamaru’s teeth grazed the side of his neck before pressing, it –

Neji’s hands, both of them shaking, wrapped around the outside of Shikamaru’s thighs, drawing them up, gripping so much he was shaking from his own force _._ And he was too rough but he didn’t care because he was coming, wanting something more than useless, pathetic sounds to come from his lips – wanting Shikamaru’s name in their place, but it was too many syllables so he just cried out.

Shikamaru rubbed slower, replaced teeth with tongue – let him come down, back into himself with gentle attention.

_Tender_.

It’s all Shikamaru is – tender, with too much access to the right ways to wind Neji up, as much as he could _always_ pull him back.

It was another few minutes before Neji opened his eyes – didn’t even know he’d lost sight of using his byakugan in favor of falling into Shikamaru’s guiding hands. It came and it went and once he was finally down, his hands found their way to wrap around Shikamaru’s embrace on his stomach.

Shikamaru pulled him back into the comforting place they’d been just a few minutes before, both inclined, both at peace in each other’s heat.

The shadows were bending the right way around them now, no longer stretching. Just shaking with the wobble of the flame as it slowly ate away at the wax.

Shikamaru was hard, Neji slowly realized as his limbs started to work properly again. Heavy like sleep, tired – he’d never felt more exhausted, but that didn’t stop him from moving to –

“It’s okay –” Shikamaru said, breathing shakily -- his hands softly tensed, insisting Neji stay as he was. His tone was still deep, but lost the quiet edge of before. Neji tried to protest, to insist, but Shikamaru continued, “It’s okay… later… just stay like this, with me.”

And then against his ear, earnestly, “Please…”

Neji listened – it felt wrong to sit in wait, knowing Shikamaru needed him. But if he needed this more…

“Of course…”

The rise and fall of Shikamaru’s chest was the only thing Neji felt for a while, much like the water drying on his skin. Thoughts trickled back into his mind – things about putting up the food down stairs, to the tingling sensation of Shikamaru’s thumbs rubbing back and forth against his hip bone and how it was the safest he ever felt – 

Thoughts clearer than most summer days – cloudless, bright.

“I…”

Minute changes beneath him let him know that Shikamaru was listening – his breathing rhythm lost focus for a moment before returning, and he squeezed. Waiting.

It was with ease that Shikamaru knew how to pull everything from Neji – moans, confessions, _everything._

“Nothing I’m doing is working.”

Shikamaru still waited, but there wasn’t an expectation behind it. It was his freedom to say and do as he wished.

“I can’t do anything _right._ Not by you, not by myself. I try and I… get _angry_ … and though it’s never at you, I still somehow still put it on you–”

This hurt more than anything, but now he was compelled to say it. He closed his eyes and wished they would remain dry, just enough so the words could slip out easier. “I’m sorry – I’m so sorry – I want to keep it to myself, to keep you from harm, and yet–”

His wishes often go ignored, and there’s no exception just because his tongue has finally been pried loose. He blinked against the overflow, but it just wets his eyelashes faster.

Shikamaru kissed, gentler than before, an encouragement.

“I’m -- I’m trying so hard not to hurt you – yet it’s not _working_ and I’m hurting you regardless. I can’t keep all it in, not even when I try.”

“You don’t have to keep it in, Neji… you’re not hurting me –”

Neji chuckled. There was nothing funny about it except that, maybe, Shikamaru was a poor liar sometimes. “Yes, I am. Maybe you don’t mind, but I do. You’re _tired_. You tend to me far more than you should, and you bite your tongue when I don’t deserve to have your patience.”

“I’m –”

“It’s okay to say it, Shikamaru– it’s the truth.”

Shikamaru stayed quiet at that, though Neji felt that there was more he wanted to say. Neji didn’t really want to hear it, so he just sighed and went on. “It’s… what it is right now.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

That’s the hard part, the part that hurts the most -- the way he made himself a stranger to Shikamaru, all on his own, just because he didn’t want to be pried open.

Neji walked his fingers up Shikamaru’s wrist, lacing their fingers together – maybe he’d been scared of this conversation, but the shaking in Shikamaru’s hands showed him that they shared the same worries, the same fears. He squeezed, and activated his Byakugan. 

The sad sound in the back of his throat died, seeing Shikamaru’s wet cheeks and wet lashes and knowing he was causing them. “I’ll try.”

Shikamaru nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded again, and Neji’s chest grew tight knowing he wasn’t saying anything _because_ he was crying.

“I’ll do better for you.”

“Do better for yourself, Neji–” 

The break in his voice, the quiet exhaustion and fears Neji could so plainly hear – his own problems and insecurities washed down the drain with the water, and all that was left was them.

Neji shifted around in Shikamaru’s hold, and Shikamaru let him. The water was gone, the candle was low – shadows filled the cracks and crevices around them, but Shikamaru was clear.

Lowlight didn’t mask the slickness of his cheeks, the tightness of his lips that set his jaw stiff and unyielding...

Neji didn’t care about his own tears because _this_ was far worse.

Their knees and legs were awkward, the tub was hard, the air cold, but Neji leaned into the space where Shikamaru’s hands were dropping to his legs, and he grabbed Shikamaru’s jaw, his cheeks.

Shikamaru looked at him, braver than Neji would have been – so much more raw than the last time he’d come to Neji with fears. Last time, it was just a skimming of the surface, asking if he was still okay with _their_ home. Asking, on his own terms and for the last time, about something that affected him.

_I take so much_.

Neji just stared, took in his eyes – he’d been avoiding this for so long, too. It had been ages since he’d even looked him straight on, eye to eye, with intent to be honest. Guilt or fear always got in the way, didn’t let him look for too long, driving him into anywhere but confrontation, be it good or bad or loving or not.

Shikamaru remained quiet, and Neji caressed his face like the thousand times that Shikamaru had done for him.

His thumbs cut divots into the streaks on his cheeks. “Thank you.”

Neji wiped away the fresh tears, too – the tension in Shikamaru’s jaw started to loosen. 

Neji continued, speaking slow and quiet. “Thank you,” he repeated. He’d never thanked Shikamaru – not in ways that counted, not in ways that Shikamaru could hold on to. “I am thankful to you for giving to me, though I do so little to deserve your patience –” 

He pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“– or your love –”

He pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I’ve not lost sight of this… I’m not unappreciative of it…” 

He was still crying, but right now wasn’t about him. So much was selfishly about him, so he must instead give something to the man he loved because he’d done so little, and for months, to make him feel loved.

“I love you too dearly,” Neji echoed back Shikamaru’s words from the morning, “– I’m ashamed that I’ve hurt you…”

Shikamaru nodded, accepting the words and closing his eyes.

It wasn’t a promise he knew he could keep, but he knew it had to be kept – guilt tugged at the words, but it didn’t matter. Not right then, at least. “I will do better.”

Shikamaru grabbed his wrist with no intention behind the action – just to hold him back.

“I’ll do _something_ …”

Shikamaru nodded. “Thank you…”

Neji pressed their foreheads together and waited – somewhere along the way, he’d stopped crying. He remembered, in a flash like lightning, what it was like to be stronger for someone else. Remembered the way it made him so certain of his own capabilities, being able to be there for someone precious.

Shikamaru leaned into their space, hands snaking beneath them to hold Neji close by the waist. He rested his head on Neji’s shoulder, relaxing into the hold when Neji’s arms came to wrap around his shoulders. 

They sleep in the same bed, and yet the closest Neji felt to Shikamaru was in this embrace – it was a shameful fact, so Neji closed his eyes against the thought and held Shikamaru tighter.

“You’re my home,” Neji whispered – it was true, and fear crawled into his mind at the thought of Shikamaru not knowing that.

Shikamaru fell apart, and Neji was there to hold him together.

~

The night was calm outside their window. The rain finally ceased, and the fresh scent of renewed earth and leaf drifted through their open crack in the blinds.

It was late at night, but Shikamaru had pushed aside their clock and tilted its face away from their bed.

They might have migrated away from each other like most nights, but something strong and bone deep kept them together just then, with hands and legs overlapping. And when Shikamaru’s breath cascaded down his neck, it filled him with an aching, longing need to hold him closer still. 

He knew how deeply they needed each other, even in their restful moments, and it was, for once, a night without interruption.

Except, for when Shikamaru stirred. He was too keyed up to sleep, even when his tired, glossy eyes demanded he try.

“We have a new program.”

Neji didn’t like the implication, but nodded without any true complaints to make. He stroked his hair, basking in the feeling of Shikamaru’s body going limp and pliant once again. “That was the one you prepared for today, wasn’t it? What is it?”

“It’s medical.”

Neji nodded, closing his eyes – he breathed in the rain, the scent of Shikamaru’s shampoo.

“In a sense,” Shikamaru corrected. “Sakura is going to be heading the project this time…”

Neji hummed. Perhaps the weight of this project might spare him, this time.

“It’s… a trauma center. For shinobi and the things some of us have gone through...”

Neji opened his eyes to the black-greyness of the room. 

Shikamaru’s body was tense again – waiting. 

It made sense – Shikamaru’s words from earlier filtered through the haze of the day, through the many conversations he had, and he remembered the devout tone Shikamaru took with him, on the kitchen floor.

  
_“Why are you so motivated to do this now?”_

_“It is important to me that it’s done.”_

And then:

_“Who would that be? If not you, who would wish to hear me talk about anger?”_

Neji closed his eyes again. He didn’t have any anger in him, he’d spent it all and more. “I suppose you have me in mind, don’t you?”

He shook his head, as much as he could against Neji’s chest. “I thought you should know about it. That’s all.”

He didn’t know if he’d even want to open up to a stranger – not _again_. But, the sentiment was there, was kind and idle...

He continued to card through his hair, breathing attuned to the steady rise and fall of Shikamaru’s. “Thank you.”

Sleep claimed them swift and easy, and Neji slept through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter.... took so so much, and changed course along the way, but im so insanely happy with it and im so thankful you read this far. there was less trial in this as it turned out, but that's because it ended up becoming its own prequel story that you may find inspired by this work. also check the tags/rating
> 
> this chapter is brought to you because my lovely friend who betaed for me. check out [casey @ spocksings](https://spocksings.tumblr.com/), because she's amazing and without her help i literally would still be working on this. thank you so much for your insight, your suggestions, for helping work so much of this out -- you made this so much fun and so much better than it would have been -- thanks to you neji is no longer stuck in a loop of burning his rice and thinking about his life hehe
> 
> next chapter is the gai scene i swear on god, and i'm 99% certain that it's the last chapter. thank u guys!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> (edited notes) 
> 
> so i said "what if neji didn't die, his uncle did, and naruto and hinata decided to say Fuck The Hyuuga Clan and their disgusting system" and thus this was born. i hate the hyuuga clan with passion and know that their story line could have been handled way better. i think neji could have been handled way better too, instead of written off for convenience.... anyway, i know he'd live well after the war, and he'd face his trauma, and he'd be loved instead. 
> 
> i changed the way they talk a bit because this is my vision of them as a comfortable, established couple who have been together for years. please let me know what you think, your comments make me so happy!
> 
> all mistakes are my own!
> 
> 11.01.2020 i'd like to extend a huge thank you to [casey @spocksings](https://spocksings.tumblr.com/), who betaed chapter 4 for me and beyond. thank u so much, your insights and conversations and suggestions grounded me, my intentions, and helped me with making something i love. thank u!!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [For the Record](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26021602) by [fizzypunk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzypunk/pseuds/fizzypunk)




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